


Here Be Dragons

by skyline



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: California, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 01:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a difference between being in love and wanting to get your rocks off, and man, Kendall was hoping for the latter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Floods The Sky And Blurs The Darkness

Boy bands were dead. D. E. A. D.

Hell, Kendall hadn't particularly liked them when they were alive.

N'SYNC, the Backstreet Boys, New Kids on the Block, and Boy Quake. They were a nineties phenomenon that made him glad he'd been too young to remember the better half of the decade.

Which is why him being in one was fucking hilarious.

If someone had told him half a year ago that he was destined to become the next American Idol, he would have politely inquired what kind of acid they were dropping. Pop just wasn't his thing, and the only reason he even knew a bunch of dumb nineties songs was because work practically drilled them inside his skull.

Seriously, they fried his brain.

He couldn't help it if his boss had horrific taste in music. And boy bands; well they were just the lowest of the low. Horrific was an understatement. That they'd gone extinct before his time was something he considered a blessing.

But if there was one think Kendall liked to pride himself in aside from besides being an excellent hockey player, it was being a fantastic friend. Because really, he didn't have much else going for him.

He wasn't handsome or charming like James with his too tight pants and his ridiculously _pretty_ hair.

He wasn't smart like Logan, who was a walking dictionary, assured early decision acceptance from Harvard if he wanted it.

Who _wouldn't_ want it?

And he wasn't funny like Carlos, who could reduce their entire classroom into belly-clutching chuckles in nine seconds flat. Give the boy a one liner and an audience and laughter was pretty much inevitable, even if people weren't always laughing at the joke.

Being fiercely loyal and good at beating shit up were the only positive characteristics Kendall had going for him, and he'd always counted on those characteristics hitching him a ride out of North Bumblefuck, Minnesota.

Of course, he hadn't expected it to happen quite like this.

He'd been betting that he'd get a hockey scholarship to some moderately prestigious school whose recruiter had witnessed his immensely impressive slap shot during a championship game. After university, the NHL would snatch him up and he'd be set for life. Or, if worst came to worst and no school would have him other than the local community college, maybe scared off by his horrendous grades, he'd depend on the benevolence of his friends to get him the hell out of dodge. Logan would be a wealthy doctor, James would be a filthy rich popstar, and Carlos would be a well-off whatever-it-was-Carlos-wanted-to-do-with-his-life, and between the three of them they'd have to be able to afford a cushy mansion with an Olympic size swimming pool in Hawaii for Kendall. Maybe they'd even introduce him to some sultry models.

Instead, this total dickwad of a music producer showed up and threatened to crush James's dreams, completely derailing all of Kendall's nicely laid plans. He had half a mind to tell the guy where he could stick his offer.

In fact, he'd had his entire mind set on it.

Unfortunately for him, James and Logan were especially persuasive when they wanted to be, and man were they devoted to this Kendall as a popstar thing. Somehow they'd gotten him to cave.

Maybe it was all that good-friend shit backfiring on him.

James was ecstatic, so Kendall knew he'd done good. At the same time, his hockey dream had been tenuous at best to begin with, and now it was obliterated. There was no way to impress recruiters when you were a trillion miles away from the championship game.

All of a sudden, he was whisked away from everything he'd ever known, other than those friends he valued so damn much.

Reality was harsh, man.

And it wasn't like he hated singing. He liked to sing, to feel his voice vibrate out of his chest into a sound that was tangible, that he felt like he could taste and touch. He just never imagined sharing that with so many people, like the girls Gustavo promised would soon be knocking down his door. Which was a creepy idea, because while Kendall liked girls, he also liked privacy. Somehow this boy band thing felt like it could get invasive, quick.

Plus, singing in a tiny sound booth with his three closest friends got really…intimate. But that wasn't something Kendall liked to think about.

Anyway, California was uncharted territory. It was like one of those yellowed Old World maps that pictured monsters wherever what really existed was uncertain. Here be dragons, only instead of dragons Kendall had fire breathing record execs and anorexic girls who looked like they might just be able to shoot laser beams out of their eyes. Everywhere he stepped, Kendall wasn't sure if he'd find firm ground.

The scent of sea salt on the highways made him dizzy, the people drove so fast they might as well have been on the Autobahn, the air was too dry, and the sky was invisible under a thick sheet of smog. At night, the stars hid beneath that same smog, disorienting him, making him feel like he'd left the planet instead of just Minnesota.

James, Logan, and Carolos didn't seem to care. They loved it here, where the sun was always shining and hiking was an extracurricular activity instead of something you had to do to get to school. They loved that aside from the nasty populace in showbiz, the whole place was full of Stepford people, unnaturally happy and helpful to the point of being nauseating. They loved walking on the streets and spotting superstars, even though the superstars were too snooty and full of themselves to spot anyone but themselves.

His friends didn't seem to see past the glitter of Hollywood, down to the grimy, gritty reality of it.

Everything was fake. The adobe houses and the plasticized girls and the blue of the swimming pools. It was all doctored, and Kendall couldn't stand it.

When they drove down the streets at night, he wasn't watching the lights of Grauman's Chinese Theater. He was looking at the neon-like glow of the strip clubs and the decrepit adult video stores, the decay of the homeless wandering, unloved, and wondering how this corruption had been integrated so far into this city that no one seemed to even notice it. Minnesota might have been the Middle-of-Nowhere, USA, but it was a hundred times more real than this whole state.

He knew that if he had a chance to go back and change what he'd done, he wouldn't.

The problem with loyalty was that it wasn't something you could turn on and off. So if the guys were happy, Kendall resolved that he would have to be happy.

There would be no more hot tub parties at Jenny Tinkler's when her parents were on vacation. Sitting in the champagne bubble Jacuzzi surrounded by endless, pristine snow with the stars blazing overhead and everyone he'd ever known crushed in around him, sipping cans of PBR and hooking up with ambitionless girls hadn't been all that great. Playing shopping cart mini-golf in the Sherwood's parking lot until he was so cold his hands were numb had really just been a waste of time. And hockey? Well, hockey was a dumb sport anyway. It wasn't like Kendall relished the sportsmanship or the closeness of his team. They'd be fine minus four players. After all, that's why alternates were created.

Yeah, California was great, and Kendall would learn to love it.

At least, that was the plan.

\---  
"Dude. No. Just- no," Logan laughed, pushing Kendall's hands away, "This is not going to end well."

"Yes it is," Kendall replied, trying to make his eyes as wide and innocent as humanly possible, "Look, how often do you think we're going to get this opportunity?"

"Hopefully many, many times," the shorter boy replied with a mischievous laugh, ducking as his friend grabbed for him again.

This was why Logan was his favorite. Carlos was too gullible; it was a cinch to get him to do something. James was pretty much Kendall's Siamese twin when it came to pranks, so there was never any coercion needed. But Logan- Logan was a challenge.

Kendall loved challenges.

He narrowed his eyes, "Yeah? You're willing to chance it?"

Doubt crossed Logan's face.

That was all Kendall needed. He pounced, throwing his arms around Logan's shoulders and pushing him forward, hissing, "Careful, she's on the move."

"I _really_ need new friends," Logan muttered, pulling himself up to his full height and walking with purpose toward a girl wearing a white t-shirt and a mini skirt.

Then his footsteps stuttered to a standstill. He turned back toward Kendall and inquired meekly, "Are you sure we didn't we learn our lesson last time? I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm still bruised from those field hockey sticks."

Logan was going to chicken out.

That could not be allowed to happen. Jennifers wearing white and going braless around the pool were not a common occurrence. They could have to wait months, nay _years_ , for the next opportunity.

Kendall didn't like to live with regret.

Sighing, Kendall patted his shorts, making sure his cell phone and wallet were where they belonged, which at this point was anywhere but here. He felt nothing but cloth covering skin. Reassured that his pockets were empty, he met Logan's eyes, lips twisting into a smirk.

James and Carlos were going to be so pissed they missed it.

"No. No, no, no," Logan began yelping, more familiar with the look on Kendall's face than he liked, "Stop. Halt. Don't come any closer."

"C'mon," Kendall's smirk turned into a full-fledged grin, "I promise, I'll be gentle."

It was all the warning Logan got.

"You're _never_ gentle-"

Kendall began running, flying, leaping toward him so that the dark haired boy stumbled backward, tripping over his own feet and right into the unsuspecting Jennifer lounging on the edge of the pool, kicking her feet through the chlorinated water.

For a second, all Kendall felt was triumph as he heard the girl's screech and Logan's less-than-dignified yell drowned out as they went under.

Then he realized he'd forgotten to hold his breath.

His lungs filled, burning, choking off his air supply. All around him it was rippling blue, stinging his eyes, turning everything surreal. He caught a glance of white like the underbelly of a fish before he caught a limb to the face. Reeling back, Kendall felt his feet scrape the terracotta floor of the pool. He propelled himself off it, surging upwards.

Coughing and spluttering and kind of laughing, he broke the surface. His cheek ached where someone had- what, hit him, kicked him? Kendall wasn't sure, and he didn't really care.

The Jennifer he'd just doused with the Palm Wood's finest recreational amenity was screaming bloody murder, and it wasn't until she caught him staring rather pointedly somewhere that _wasn't_ her face that she had the good sense to cross her arms and hide what her mama or Hollywood's best plastic surgeon had given her.

"You- you," she looked like she wanted to jab a finger in his direction, and man, he really hoped she would, " _Jerk!_ "

Kendall shrugged. He'd been called worse, "Sorry. I tripped."

He glanced around for Logan, only to find him all the way at the kiddy side of the pool with a five year old girl on his back crying, "Pony! Pony!"

Kendall swam over, ignoring the way the Jennifer, whichever one she was, yelled after him. She obviously didn't buy his explanation, but whatever.

Girl was a total bitch anyway.

"Dude. Miss the show?"

Logan was halfway between cracking up and spontaneously combusting. He decided on the former as soon as Kendall helped him remove the overly enthusiastic kid, "Those _can't_ be real."

Pleased that he was currently reigning king of all things fun, Kendall grinned, "I know, right?"

Eyes dancing, Logan relented, "Okay. I admit it. That- was a good idea."

They watched the Jennifer climb out of the pool, getting a better look at the clear outline of her breasts as she pulled herself up the ladder and then folded her arms again. She shot lethal glares in their direction, which only served to make them laugh more.

"Of course it was a good idea. I have all the best ideas," Kendall declared, never one for modesty.

"Really?" Logan asked dryly, "I hadn't noticed."

Kendall began making his way out of the pool, "Shut up. You _love_ it."

"Love is such a strong word," Logan told him, "I don't know if I can love something that's going to get me killed one day."

When he reached the top of the steps, he reached out for Logan, who was floating on his back. The water reflected the blue-gray sky overhead, so it appeared that he was hovering on clouds and sunlight, like an angel.

Except Kendall knew better than anyone that Logan Mitchell was no angel. They'd been friends since third grade.

Logan righted himself and reached for his friend's hand. His cold, slightly pruney fingers wrapped around Kendall's, just as he was teasing, "Aw, I wouldn't let you die."

That was the moment everything changed.

Kendall felt Logan's warmth all the way down to his bones, to his marrow. Gasping, he snatched his hand back. Logan fell, arms spread wide like a starfish. When his back hit the water the sound echoed around the pool, and the splash splattered Kendall's legs.

He didn't even notice; he was staring at the light playing over his hand and the glistening droplets like diamonds pooling in the crescents between his fingers and the valley-like lines of his palm.

What the fuck had just happened?

Logan seemed to agree. When his head surfaced again, he was seething mad. He delivered a line of expletives that ended up getting them both kicked off poolside property for the rest of the day. The Palm Woods _was_ a family friendly hotel.

"You are such a douchebag. You know that?" Logan groaned as they were sent packing back to their room.

"Speak for yourself assface," Kendall snapped in reply, trying hard to keep his eyes on the hideous wallpaper lining the halls, the fake potted palms; anywhere but Logan's face.

For the first time Kendall accepted he'd never, ever get used to California.

On top of the dragons, on top of the counterfeit brightness and the phony people, and on top of the fact that he was totally out of his element…

There was obviously something in the water.


	2. And You Don't Care If You're Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That thing at the pool with the warmth and the spark and the sudden onslaught of feelings had to be a mistake, because there was nothing Kendall wanted less than complicated emotions messing with his life when everything was already so messed up. And to be honest, he didn't even know what he felt; he'd been too startled by the actual occurrence to take in what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

Kendall rallied. It's what he always did best.

That thing at the pool with the warmth and the spark and the sudden onslaught of _feelings_ had to be a mistake, because there was nothing Kendall wanted less than complicated emotions messing with his life when everything was already so messed up. And to be honest, he didn't even know what he felt; he'd been too startled by the actual occurrence to take in what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

Which it didn't.

It was obviously a freak accident of some sort, and not worth thinking about.

Only, he had this sudden desire to push one of his best friends against a wall and have his way with him, and that- well, that was worth pondering. Because Kendall was straight, and unbridled lust for another guy was decidedly not something straight guys experienced. He'd never had any sort of attraction to his own gender before, and why would he? They were lacking all the traits Kendall found sexy; smooth skin, delicate wrists, long, beautiful hair, plush mouths, and most importantly, vaginas.

Stupid California with its stupid aphrodisiac water.

At first Kendall didn't even notice that Logan had him sprung, because he was sixteen, and there was very little that _didn't_ make him pop a boner. When they were all sitting together in his living room or singing together in the sound booth, he could play it off in his mind as jonesing for that model on TV, or tell himself it was because Kelly was showing a rather indecent amount of cleavage.

Then this whole incident with the shower had to happen, and he was presented with irrevocable proof.

It went down on a Friday night.

Logan liked to take long fucking showers. Like, longer than James, who was so finicky about the way his hair turned out that he could spend _hours_ in the bathroom.

And Kendall really had to piss.

Their Palm Woods apartment had two bathrooms, one of which the boys were absolutely under no condition allowed to go in. It was solely for Kendall's mom and Katie, because according to Mrs. Knight she liked her toilet seat down, her shower drain and sink clean of boy hair, and after that one time with the Lysol and the fire back home did she even really _need_ a reason?

Now, nine times out of ten, when Kendall's mom outlawed something he figured it was just one more rule that was made to be broken. This particular instance however, he couldn't even sneak into there because his mom was lounging in a bath. He could smell the peach bubbles and tropical scented candles all the way down the hall, plus the empty bottle of red wine on the counter was a major indicator.

So yeah, he only had one other option.

Well, there was the sink, but Jo and Camille were over, playing foosball, and he was certain that wasn't a show they'd appreciate.

Anyway, after pounding on the door for about a minute, Kendall decided to just go for it. It wasn't like Logan would mind; they walked in on each other showering all the time for various reasons. James was the most frequent offender, because he constantly needed to check on the state of his bangs or whatever. And it wasn't like they'd never seen each other naked before either. Hello, hockey locker room.

Really, Kendall couldn't figure out why he was so apprehensive about the whole thing. The whole pool thing must have shaken his confidence, which was silly. Nothing had happened. So there was nothing to worry about, right?

Gathering his resolve, he twisted the doorknob; only to be barraged by a gust of burning hot air so thick it nearly choked him. The room was so filled with steam that Kendall could barely see a foot in front of him. Actually, the low visibility made him feel slightly better about barging in. He closed the door carefully, about to announce his presence to Logan above the drum of the water on ceramic. Only, the room was steamy enough that his bare feet didn't get much traction on the slick tile.

Kendall might have had a lot of grace on the ice and off it, but that didn't mean he never got thwarted by a slippery floor or two. He ended up flat on his butt, and the sound of his head banging against the wall plus his loud cry of, "Fuck!" alerted Logan to his presence.

The links of the shower curtain screeched against the rod as it was ripped away, and there was Logan, in all his full, naked glory, demanding, "Dude, are you alright?"

"I'm-" Kendall groaned, "I'm good. I think."

He began to climb to his feet, but there was a tiny technical problem. It was either Logan or the linoleum that was getting him hard, and the Palm Woods's bathroom tile just wasn't all that sexy.

"I haven't seen you take a spill that bad since State, freshman year," Logan inclined his head, water jumping off his skin and splattering the walls, the unsexy tile, and Kendall, "You sure you okay?"

"Peachy," Kendall slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Horny or not, that had really fucking hurt.

"Okay…Did you want something?"

Yes. He wanted to pee. Only that was really hard when his penis refused to cooperate. Dilemma.

"Uh. Right. I- needed to wash my hands," he made a grand show of walking over to the sink and turning on the water, flicking his fingers beneath the spigot and completely not watching the way Logan's dark happy trail of hair lead down to places that were…well, places that weren't helping the situation at hand.

Although at that moment in time Kendall wouldn't have minded getting his hands near those places, not at all.

Logan raised an eyebrow, like he was asking what exactly was wrong with the kitchen sink, but he shrugged and closed the curtain. He had no reason to be suspicious.

Kendall was hit with a sudden rush of relief, of terror, and reminded of his need to use the facilities. He ended up trekking all the way downstairs to the hotel lobby restrooms, but the entire way, his mind was on Logan.

What had just happened wasn't normal.

In Minnesota, feelings and emotions earned you a one way ticket to the hospital and if you were lucky social humiliation until graduation. If you weren't it could get bad.

Very bad.

In California, Kendall couldn't walk down a street without seeing two guys engaging in some form of faggotry; hand holding or kissing or hugging. He felt like Alice in Wonderland.

And now it was rubbing off.

Of course, just because Logan suddenly made his dick throb didn't mean Kendall felt something for him other than good old brotherly love. Because there's a difference between being in love and wanting to get your rocks off, and man, Kendall was hoping for the latter. It had to be the latter. Logan was just…a guy. Maybe he was a guy that Kendall now found weirdly appealing, and maybe broad and solid was mystifyingly becoming his type, but it wasn't like he was having mushy, butterflies-and-hearts type emotions. That would just be strange.

Because things weren't strange enough already.

He must have had a dazed look on his face, because when he found his way back to the living room, bodily functions taken care of, he was greeted with a cry of, "Oh my god. You look like crap. I have concealer for that, you know."

"Thanks," Kendall gritted out, glaring up at James. He was hovering in the hallway, where they'd set up a full length mirror to practice dance moves in front of.

No one actually did that, of course, but they let Gustavo think they did.

James seemed to be using it to check out his outfit, which contained too much leather and bling for Kendall's tastes.

"I live to help," the taller boy replied airily, "And I'm completely serious. I cannot take you to a party when you look like such a trainwreck. You'll drive away all the girls."

Girls were really the last thing on Kendall's mind right now, so he didn't find this comment as offensive as he normally would. He looked around for help, but Camille and Jo seemed to have vacated the premises. Yeah, their timing sucked ass.

"I'm not going to a party with you."

"Yes you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Kendall. Kendall, Kendall, Kendall. How do I put this in words you'll understand?" James's smile fell and his face turned deadly serious, "At this party, I'll be telling people I'm in a band. How's it going to look if the frontman of said band refuses to make an appearance?"

"Um, like you have a life of your own?" Kendall suggested, stretching his feet across the coffee table. He hoped his mother stayed in that bathtub for a long, long time, because she hated when they were all up on the furniture with their shoes on.

"Dude. No. It'll look like I'm some freak who's making shit up. I do not _do_ freak. I do dark and mysterious," James tapped his foot emphatically.

"If you're so dark and mysterious, how are you going to tell people you're in a band?"

"I'm not," he shook his head so hard that his hair fell in his eyes, "You are."

"Right. So basically, you want me to come and chat you up so you can score?"

"Exactly. If the frontman is infatuated with me, how could any girl not be? Not that I even need it," James pointed to his pearly-white smile and said, "You know no one can resist this."

Kendall bristled at the word 'infatuated'. Given his most recent discovery, the implication that he liked any guy to the point of infatuation was a little more than unsettling, "You know you're a gigantic doofus?"

The chestnut haired boy made a face at Kendall, which he returned whole-heartedly, "Why can't you ask Logan? Or Carlos?"

That would at least take care of getting Logan out of the apartment for a little while, so Kendall could stew.

"Dorky and dorkier? I'm trying to hook up with girls, not traumatize them."

"I heard that," Carlos yelled from one of the bedrooms, where accompanying noises of gunfire and yelling dribbled out. It sounded like he was playing Halo 3. Kendall would have much rather been in there with him, shooting anything that moved than talking to James about a party. Parties were not conducive for managing anger and frustration. In fact, Kendall had learned a while ago that parties and alcohol usually tended to inflame tricky situations. So really, playing with different forms of ammunition in a virtual world seemed like a much better idea.

"You were supposed to," James called back, not all that concerned. There was no need to be; Carlos was anything but fragile.

"I don't want to go to your dumb party anyway," Carlos continued through an onslaught of machine gun sound effects, "Didn't you say it's for industry execs? Bo-ring. The chicks are going to be like, ninety."

"Industry execs?" Kendall asked tiredly, leaning his head back against the orange sofa, "James, I'm not in the mood to schmooze."

James ignored him in favor of studying himself in the mirror.

Suspicious now, Kendall demanded, "This isn't some party you think is going to jump start your modeling career, is it?"

His friend patted his leather jacket, "I've got my headshots on me, if that's what you're asking."

Of course he did. James never left home without them.

"You're not going to give up until I give in, are you?"

"It's like you can read my mind, I swear," James cocked an eyebrow, "I take it that's a yes."

Like he didn't already know.

Kendall met James in peewee hockey. For the first five years of his life, Kendall hadn't had anything other than Lego's and TV to occupy his time. When he discovered hockey, it was like he finally had somewhere he belonged, other than the warm circle of his mother's arms. He was good, so good that he heard other parents whisper that eventually he'd go pro.

Then James showed up. Kendall couldn't stand him. The one thing James did best was hog the spotlight, in everything, and hockey was no exception. He scored goals as easy as breathing, instantly becoming the coach's star. It was really, really annoying.

For a long while, Kendall and James had an epic rivalry going on, the kind that fueled elementary school legends. At least, it was an epic a rivalry kids could have when they were kindergartners. Then, one morning Kendall's mom had to drop him at the rink early. When Kendall walked into the locker room, he found James, shaking his scrawny butt to an old school Madonna song on top of one of the benches, singing into his hockey stick like it was a standing microphone.

Turned out, James was so good because he practiced super hard. Using the whole Madonna thing as blackmail, because even at five Kendall realized that there was something a little strange about a boy in full hockey gear rocking out to Madge, he convinced James to start coaching him.

Oh, and he might have abducted James's Power Rangers lunchbox and ransomed it for lessons as well, but he tried to keep that part of the story on the down low. It was more embarrassing nowadays to talk about their mutual affection for Power Rangers than it was to mention James had always been a dancing queen.

Anyway, they'd been fast friends ever since. It was weird now to think that if James hadn't had a total crush on the Pink Ranger that Kendall had totally taken advantage of, they would have just gone on hating each other.

"Good," James beamed, "You have ten minutes to get ready. I already had Mr. Bitters call us a cab."

Of course, Kendall wasn't allowed to get ready on his own. Apparently there was something wrong with choosing a pair of Levi's and a t-shirt that smelled reasonably okay off the floor of his room. James ended up forcing him into this ridiculous ensemble of brand name chic that made him feel like he was a fucking Jonas Brother or something, because seriously, he was wearing pointy boots and everything.

"Perfect," James turned a critical eye on him.

Kendall stared at himself in the mirror and felt like he was looking at a stranger. His hockey team back home wouldn't even recognize him.

"James?"

"Yes?" James replied in a voice that made it obvious he was more than pleased with his work.

"I liked you so much better before you started wearing eyeliner."

"Dude. Chicks dig the eyeliner."

The walk down the hall felt like a death march, because Kendall so did not want to go outside looking like such a complete douchebag.

"Have fun with the geriatrics," Carlos called after them.

Kendall made sure to slam the door on their way out.

\---  
  
The girls were not ninety.

Kendall wasn't even sure half of them were above twenty. He had one word for the old perverts that populated the party, and that word was jailbait.

"I like her," James declared eagerly, pointing to a redhead with soft curves evident beneath her cerulean dress.

"I'm so very glad for you," Kendall retorted, completely out of his element. The vast majority of the girls were so pretty they could have been models. It certainly wasn't the Palm Wood's with its bevy of future Disney, CW, and Nickelodeon stars. Every girl here looked _experienced_ and confident and nothing like any of the girls back home in Minnesota.

The drive up here had been a blur of Jacaranda trees and heavy foliage. When Kendall had glanced out the grubby window of the taxi, he could see Hollywood from the hills. The city shone so brightly, like a beacon, and Kendall wondered if it was because the stars were invisible, like they'd died and gone from this place long before he'd ever stepped foot here. Even now, he could see Hollywood from the gigantic windows of the mansion they stood in, like a lighthouse for wayward souls looming in the distance.

"Okay, you being such a buzz kill has been fun and all, but it's time to snap out of it. I mean look at where we are, Kendall," James gestured around the party with starstruck eyes, pointing out celebrities whose hands tattooed the cement sidewalks of the city below, of record producers and movie directors who were rumored to be like fairy godmothers, making dreams come true.

There was that damned loyalty stirring again. Kendall groaned, knowing already that he was going to paste the biggest fake smile on his face and act as charming as he knew how, just so James's night went off without a hitch. Who cared that his stomach was actually roiling and his brain was churning with the turmoil, with the memory of Logan, dripping wet like some kind of erotic fantasy? He had to act normal, and while Kendall normally hated acting like a huge phony, he also wasn't about to ruin a minute of this Hollywood hills party for James.

"Yeah. You're right," he said.

James looked surprised, like he hadn't expected such an easy response, "I am?"

He recovered quickly, "Of course I am. Now, let's go act like rockstars."

Being in a boy band hardly made them rockstars, but Kendall only nodded obediently. He could do this.

The night passed in a hazy fog, probably amplified by the rum spiked punch that tasted of mango. They talked to old men with so many wrinkles in their faces they looked prehistoric and laughed with girls so young and adoring they could have been Katie. James was excellent at being charismatic, and his dark and mysterious plan fell by the wayside. It seemed he didn't even need Kendall at his side, so Kendall drifted away, toward the hors d'oeuveres lined out in neat rows on a series of long tables draped with white drop cloths.

He loaded up a plate with food, with raw tuna and wasabi mayo, tiny samosas stuffed with potato and oninon and drizzled with some kind of cilantro and mint dressings, lobster filled taquitos, miniature bowls of glass noodles mixed with vegetables, and hamburgers so small they fit in the palm of his hand. Whoever was hosting this shindig was serving like, everything fusion.

It was while Kendall was chowing down on one of the spicy samosas that he spied the girl standing awkwardly beside one of the gold draped drink tables the caterers had set up. She was wearing a gunmetal dress that has cutouts in all the right places, tottering on heels that made her already tall frame supermodel long. Her hair was black, the kind of black that had to be dyed, because it seemed to suck up all the light in the room, and when she flicked her eyes in his direction, Kendall could see they were some amalgam of green and brown. He liked her too red lipstick; imagined the way it would stain his skin as she kissed down his chest. He liked the metallic white sheen of her eye shadow and her mascara-clumpy lashes, because they were oh-so-feminine; nothing at all like Logan.

He walked towards her, weaving between groups of people cradling fluorescent martinis and sweating glasses of refined whiskey, feeling a little better than he had all night. He had the rum punch to thank for his liquid courage, and his sudden, overwhelming desire to talk to the girl made it easy.

"Hi. I'm Kendall," he told her. She was nearly as tall as he was.

"Uh," she appeared flustered, "Hey."

She was easy to talk to, already tipsy, abandoned by her friends who were after the big fish in the room. It would have been a cinch to seal the deal. In fact, at one point Kendall saw James was looking at him with this big cheesy smile, so wide it seemed like it could split his cheeks, and he was mouthing something that looked like 'man up' but could have been 'ketchup' for all Kendall knew about lip reading.

Kendall wrapped his arms around the girl's shoulders, guiding her out onto a large balcony made completely of some kind of gray stone. There were a few other couples outside, and Kendall saw some of them watching the birds of paradise and hibiscus in the garden, since there was no stargazing to be had. The girl leaned into his side, gazing up at him like he was amazing, like he wasn't wishing he were back home watching the some blood-and-gore horror flick with Logan and Carlos.

"Uh. Nice night," Kendall murmured, looking away from her face, from her expectant mouth.

She mumbled agreement, obviously a little put out that he wasn't about to ravish her.

He asked her a few more questions about herself, zoning out by the time she gave him answers. This wasn't how he usually seduced a girl.

After about ten minutes of this, Kendall discovered that while she might have been tipsy, she certainly wasn't stupid. Petulantly, she demanded, "Are you ever going to kiss me?"

"I-" he'd been planning on it. Really, he had. But now that he was confronted with the situation, all he could think about was Logan, in the shower. How this girl's body didn't have the same planes and ridges as his, and how her lips looked sticky and sweet and not at all like his.

Cocking her hip, the girl grumbled, "Oh, I get the picture. _Keeping up appearances_? You are in a boy band, right? Fine."

The way she said 'keeping up appearances' sounded vile and suggestive to Kendall's ears, like maybe she thought he was trying to use her for something, for his image. He didn't even have an image. Big Time Rush hadn't even had a concert tour yet, so how could they?

He wanted to tell her that.

"You fucking queer," she spat.

He really, really wanted to tell her those words weren't remotely true.

Instead, he watched, quiet as she marched away.

Kendall resolved to spend the rest of the party out here, where he had room to think. Only, he'd been observed.

"What the hell was that?" James demanded, cornering him against the cold stone of the balcony railing, jabbing a finger into his chest, "You completely bombed with that girl. I've never seen you go down so hard."

It was funny how it was the second time tonight that someone was telling him how off his game he was. First Logan, and now James.

"We didn't click," Kendall shrugged.

"You don't have to click to hook up! Kendall, that girl looked pissed. Like- what did you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything."

"You had to have said _something_. She wanted to murder you."

"She did not. She…" he sounded it out slowly, turning the words over on his tongue, "She thought I was gay."

James cracked up.

"You? She thought _you_ were gay?"

"Yep."

"Well, why didn't you tell her it wasn't true?"

Kendall didn't say anything, because well- he _wasn't_ gay. But before, with Logan, it had freaked him out. And maybe it was all getting to be too much.

Maybe he should have just headed back to Minnesota right after that had happened, cleared his head with the fresh air out there.

"Oh, c'mon," James's gaze had turned analytic, "You don't actually think you're gay."

"No," Kendall said quickly, realizing he'd taken too long to reply, "Not at all."

"Have you even ever looked at a guy that way?"

He dropped his eyes. The pointy boots he wore made his feet look foreign.

James's quick intake of breath let Kendall know he was inferring things that he probably should have been, "Holy shit, you have. What happened? Is that why you're acting like such a space case?"

"Dude. Stop. You're letting your imagination run away with you."

"Spill," James was up in his personal bubble, and he wasn't backing away, and Kendall noticed he had really long eyelashes. Almost as long as that girl that he'd just scared away.

"I- keep having weird thoughts about Logan," Kendall admitted, because James was somewhat of an expert when it came to dragging information out of him. He could have held out for days, sure, but in the end, he knew the results would be the same.

Why not save himself the hassle?

"Logan?" James laughed, "You check out a guy, and you choose Logan?"

James was a good person. Really he was. He could be a diva, sometimes, but it didn't change that he pretty much always had Kendall's back. And Carlos's. And Logan's. But there had been a time, once, when an eight year old Logan had walked into Kendall's life that James hadn't so much had Logan's back as he wanted to stab it. Sometimes that residual dislike kind of slipped out, even though the two were so close now they were practically brothers.

"It's not funny."

James snorted, "Yes it is."

He asked why Kendall thought he found Logan attractive, and Kendall recounted what had happened at the pool, what had happened with the shower earlier that night.

"That- does not make you gay," James rolled his eyes, like Kendall was an idiot and needed to be reminded of the fact.

Irritated he'd been forced into this conversation, Kendall snapped, "I know that."

"That makes you…curious."

"Wow. Real helpful."

The taller boy waved him away, "No, I mean that you're just- experimenting. It's not like you've been into other guys. Right?"

"Right."

"Well. Good. No other guys," James pursed his lips and looked up at the sky, at a plane heading towards LAX, "None at all?"

"None," Kendall agreed.

"Not even me?"

"Not even- wait, what?" Kendall glanced up and wow, James was extremely close. He might have noticed before how he was barricaded in against the railing, between James's hands and arms, but before James's hips definitely weren't pressed against his and his eyes hadn't been so damned intense and he hadn't been able to feel James's breath whisper over his lips. James had gone from invading Kendall's personal space to frickin' conquering it, and it wasn't exactly comfortable.

"Uh. Dude," Kendall met James's stare, which usually only blazed like this at hockey tournaments and music gigs.

James grinned, a flash of teeth and wicked delight, "If you're experimenting, you probably shouldn't do it with Logan. He gets scared off real easy. Like a bunny rabbit."

"Um."

"I'm a much better test subject."

James kissed him.

Kendall thought California was uncharted territory. He would make new discoveries, be an explorer.

Only, exploring his best friend's mouth hadn't really been part of the plan.

He couldn't breathe. He was hyperventilating.

Wow, James was kind of good at this.

No. No, he was not thinking about that. He was thinking about how to disentangle himself from his friend's grasp, because this was awkward and wrong and-

"C'mon, Kendall," James murmured against his lips, "I dare you."

Aside from being loyal and fanfuckingtastic at hockey, Kendall was good at one other thing. Jumping into a situation head first, without a lot of thought. Pretending to be fearless.

That was why he could _never_ turn down a dare.


	3. We Won't Survive On This Borrowed Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fine," Logan replied grumpily, "I still missed out on the normal girls. And the booze. You smell like a smoothie."
> 
> Carlos snorted, "Yeah, a smoothie full of Baccardi."

Kendall stumbled out of the taxi in front of the Palm Woods, clutching James's hand. They'd gone back to the party, to drinking the mango-rum punch until their lips tasted like the pulpy sweet juice and the burn of liquor. Beneath it all, Kendall could taste James, and when he looked at his friend he could see himself on the redness of James's lips.

It was surreal.

It was pretty goddamned sexy.

They staggered into the lobby, past the disapproving glare of Mr. Bitters manning the front desk, past the empty lounge chairs and blinding whiteboards with trite sayings scrawled across them. The elevator loomed ahead, and James, laughing, punched the 'up' button so many times it got stuck. Kendall tugged him inside the gaping maw of the machine with a smile playing over his lips, "Dude, you're going to get us in So Much Trouble if you don't shut up."

He wondered if James would make a snarky comment about all the other things he could do with his mouth, but instead his clever lips spoke for him. He huddled Kendall against the wall, kissing him so hard their teeth clicked.

There was this thing about kissing that made Kendall go brain dead. He couldn't concentrate on any one thing; it was full sensory overload. His hands were clutching, grasping at the fabric of James's shirt where it bunched over his sides, and each stitch grated on his fingers until the cloth slid away to burning hot skin. Or maybe the seams of James's shirt had torn- if that ripping sound meant something other than that Kendall's entire being was falling apart.

It didn't even matter, because now he could feel the path of James's spine curving upward and downward, a stairway to heaven or hell or some kind of wicked paradise. His mouth burned from the scrape of James's stubble and the scorch of his lips, soft but chapped from days wasted on throat-drying harmonies and evenings poolside, touched by the last dying rays of sunlight. His tongue was a fervent explorer, although explorers were prone to looting and pillaging, and Kendall wasn't sure who conquered who in this scenario. James's hands raked through his hair, tugging so hard it hurt, a sweet ache across his scalp.

Everywhere James's body touched his, Kendall was certain it left a mark. They were branding each other, making it so they'd never be able to forget this, right here, right now.

They reached the second floor too soon. James ran his tongue over Kendall's lower lip and then pulled himself away, trying and failing to appear subdued.

"Act natural," he instructed, but a short bark of laughter escaped his throat.

"Alright, so I'll pretend I think you're a huge loser," Kendall said solemnly, "Neat. I can do that."

"You know, it's a good thing that I was blessed with a _wonderful_ sense of humor, Knight, or Big Time Rush might be short a frontman," James teased, but his voice was less than threatening; husky and low.

Their hands were linked again. Kendall thought maybe now was an appropriate time to disengage the hand holding, because what self-respecting male held hands with another one unless they were in preschool?

James seemed to disagree, tightening his hold on Kendall as they lurched down the hall. When they reached the entrance to their apartment, James skidded to a halt. He held Kendall's hand up and fluttered his eyelids convulsively, mockingly. In a high pitched voice he said, "So, I've had a really good time tonight…"

"You're a jerk," Kendall decided, snatching his hand away.

"Dude, you need to loosen up. Didn't you have fun?"

He had, actually. He'd had a lot of fun.

Which really fucking worried him, because this wasn't the kind of rated G, heterosexual fun he'd been raised to have.

"Didn't it get you out of your head for a little while?"

Also true. Kendall hadn't thought about Logan for at least two hours. Which made him feel guilty for reasons that didn't make sense to him, and that he certainly wasn't going to voice to James.

Grinning, James concluded, "My work here is done. I'm _amazing_."

Well. Kendall didn't know about that. Even if the taller boy's kissing prowess had obviously been gifted to him by the Greek god of Frenching or whatever, there was no need to inflate his already overlarge ego.

Kendall was worried that this thing that had happened with James, the kissing and everything would make things awkward. Even though James was- hands and lips and scalding heat, Kendall wasn't particularly into him.

Because he didn't like guys. At all.

Except for that whole Logan blip on his radar.

But James was…well, actually, had James always been so tall and broad shouldered? In the taxi, Kendall had gotten to experience those washboard abs up close and personal, and that had been…new and interesting.

Not that he wanted it to happen again. He didn't. That elevator thing had been the _last time,_ for sure. And he'd been hoping James would feel the same way, which he seemed to, and now-  
"Uh, Kendall?" James jiggled the handle of 2J pointedly, "Were you planning on coming in, or does the wallpaper have you in its thrall?"

Wow. That was embarrassing. Okay. Zoning out was something Kendall needed to quit doing.

Casual-like, he followed James inside. The TV was blaring, even though it was close to one in the morning. It looked like some chick flick was playing, and of all people, Carlos and Kendall's mom were curled up on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn.

"Hi, Mrs. Knight," James chirped, not bothering to acknowledge Carlos with anything other than a nod in his general direction. He sauntered over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water, tossing one to Kendall in the process. It was proof that this night was putting Kendall way off his game when he just barely caught it.

Maybe it was time to get some hockey practice in. Three and a half months of singing about girls and all his deft reflexes were going down the drain.

Then again, maybe it was the fact that he'd been too busy studying James uncap the bottle and the hypnotic bob of his Adam's apple as he gulped half of it down

"Hi, honey," Kendall's mom smiled, "How was the party?"

"Mom," Kendall tried to cleanse his mind of all the things his overactive hormones were conjuring up and interrupted whatever James was poised to say, scowling at her and Carlos, "Is this something I should be concerned about?"

"Not at all sweetie," the older woman replied, too used to dealing with her son's jokes. She waved her fingers airily, "I like my men in their twenties, at least."

Kendall held up both hands, miming 'halt', "Gross! I meant the fact that you're turning Carlos into a total pussy as we speak."

"Language, young man," Mrs. Knight said sternly, narrowing her eyes. She was downright scary when it came to vulgarity. Kendall ducked his head in apology.

"Dude, this movie's good. And your mom says if I'm more sensitive, it'll help me pick up chicks," Carlos enthused through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Girls," Mrs. Knight corrected, patting his arm.

"Oops, yeah, I mean, girls."

Kendall didn't want to sound petulant. He really didn't. But he really wanted his mother not to be here right now, not when thinking about James standing there in the kitchen with water dribbling down the sides of his punch-sweet mouth had him half hard, "Mom, isn't it past your bedtime?"

Kendall's mom pursed her lips, examining him from head to foot. The verdict must have been good, because she moved the popcorn bowl onto Carlos's lap and replied in a shrewd voice, "You might be right. Don't you three stay up too late either."

She wagged a finger at them in consternation, and they bobbed their heads obediently. Satisfied, she gave Kendall a quick hug, and if she smelled the alcohol on his breath, she didn't say anything.

Must have been his lucky night.

As she retreated down the hallway, Carlos yelled, "Lo-gan! They're back."

"Hey, hey! You're going to wake Katie up," Kendall rushed to quiet his friend, but Carlos just rolled his eyes.

"Please. Katie's watching some vampire thing on HBO."

"She- should not be watching HBO," Kendall sighed, folding into the couch. He had long since ceased trying to get his sister to stop maturing so quickly.

"That's what I said!" Carlos responded expectantly, like maybe doing so should have earned him a prize.

Before Kendall could elaborate on all the ways he thought Carlos had earned nothing at all, Logan burst into the room, a whirlwind of anger and plaid pajamas.

"You guys," he accused, "suck."

James did not look impressed.

"You went to a party in Hollywood Hills without Carlos or me?" Logan demanded, his voice squeaky and cracked the way it only got when he was upset and trying not to show it.

"Don't bring me into this," Carlos yelped from the couch, "I didn't want to go!"

"Could you like, keep Logan's spaz-fest under control?" James waved his hand in Logan's direction before stalking towards the bathroom, his infernal water bottle still in hand, "I've got to go rinse that sleazy taxi from my skin."

Kendall's face colored, because there was no way he wanted Logan or Carlos to know that he'd been sucking face with James the entire ride home, and how else would they think James had gotten cab germs all over himself?

"Um. Okay."

He forced himself to turn away from James and his bottle full of California voodoo water- because seriously, all these sexual thoughts were originating from _water_ , right? Pools and showers and rum- which was a clear liquid that _so_ counted, and now bottles of Poland Spring.

"Yes, we went to a party. It sucked. You missed nothing," Kendall promised Logan, even though he was fighting down his embarrassment, and maybe a little mango-rum punch that threatened to burble up out of his stomach.

Not thinking about Logan when he was hooking up with James had been easy, but now all the earlier, nausea-inducing thoughts he'd been having earlier were rushing back up at him. Just because Logan was standing there with huge, hurt, stupid puppy dog eyes and his dumb v-neck pajama shirt skewed so that half of his nipple was visible. Cocktease.

He was ashamed of the thought the second it flit through his mind.

"Yeah right it sucked," Carlos grinned wide as a Cheshire Cat, "Why do you have that big ass hickey then?"

Kendall's hand flew to his neck where it felt like James's spit had only just dried. Fuck.

He saw Logan's eyes dart towards the mark in question, but only for a moment. The shorter boy's face relaxed a little, "Saw some action, hmm?"

"Er- yes?"

"Was she hot?" Carlos crowed, "Please tell me she was hot."

Kendall thought of James, who as they spoke was probably getting naked and climbing into the shower. That idea didn't do anything but turn his cheeks red. Shit. Now it wasn't just Logan whose naked body kept flashing into his mind.

"She was…uh, yeah."

His quick instincts really weren't doing him any favors tonight.

Logan's mouth pressed into a thin line, and he said flatly, "I reiterate. You. Suck."

"C'mon, man. Don't be like that."

"Don't be like that? I heard Jessica Alba was supposed to be at that party. You just gypped me of my one opportunity to meet Jessica Alba. You denied me my chance to die a happy man. Why would you do that Kendall? Why?"

Since when had melodrama become hot? Because Kendall was pretty sure he wanted to pin Logan down against that couch and have his way with him in the harlequin romance novel way he'd read about in one of his mom's books.

It had just been one time, when he got really bored. He would have stopped reading once he became un-bored, but the thing was basically porn, and he was really, really weak willed sometimes, when it came to his hormones.

At least he'd finished it. He'd been promoting literacy, really.

Frowning at Logan, whose hair was adorably mussed and lips were kind of unnaturally red like he'd been worrying at them with his teeth, Kendall tried to focus on the matter at hand.

"Dude. Jessica Alba was definitely not at that party. Where did you hear that?"

"Guitar Dude."

"Guitar Dude has never been to an industry party in his life. They're boring. Why the hell would Jessica Alba be at one?"

For a moment, Logan looked like he was maybe considering not believing Kendall. Then he must have realized that Kendall hardly ever lied, because he preferred to dedicate his gifts of manipulation and persuasion to the lighter arts, like epic pranking. Mollified, Logan asked, "You're sure she wasn't there?"

"I swear _I_ didn't see her. Do you think James or I ever would have left if she had been?"

"Fine," Logan replied grumpily, "I still missed out on the normal girls. And the booze. You smell like a smoothie."

Carlos snorted, "Yeah, a smoothie full of Baccardi."

Kendall groaned from where he was sprawled, shoving Carlos and nearly overturning the popcorn, "And that's enough from you. Go back to watching your chick flick."

"Hey. This is _educational_."

"I'm sure."

Logan plopped down beside Kendall, sagging into his side. He was warm, even through the shield of their clothes, "Next time, I want to come, okay?"

Kendall nudged him with his shoulder, unable to help smiling a little, "Deal."

When James returned from his shower, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips, it was to find all three of them with their bodies pressed close and their legs intertwined, stretched onto the coffee table.

"You guys look like you just finished having a gay orgy," he observed, slumping down beside Carlos to snatch a handful of popcorn.

"Dude, sick," Logan laughed, and something inside Kendall cringed a little.

Maybe James knew, because when Kendall glanced toward him, his gaze was steady and mocking, like he could see right through him. Kendall felt the mark on his neck twinge, and unbidden, his hands grazed over it.

It wasn't really stealthy.

Softly, Logan whispered with laughter in his eyes, "So was she really hot? Or were you just faking?"

"Nope," Kendall grimaced, because he hated how things had gone from zero to complicated in the space of a day. James's eyes were still boring into his even as Logan's warmth seeped into his skin, "Really hot."

"Nice," Logan cheered, his voice low because Carlos was _seriously into_ the movie.

A pleased smile overtook James's face.


	4. C'mon, C'mon, It's The End Of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't like it had been with James. There was no clash of their teeth and their tongues and hands everywhere. No this was a little dizzying, a little terrifying, and a little too brief. Kendall's lips brushed over Logan, stealing their warmth, stealing the shocked breath his friend exhaled.

"Dogs. Sit," Gustavo motioned towards a couch with billowing gestures, like the flapping of a sail, "Now."

They obeyed.

Gustavo was under the impression that none of them understood sentences, especially not the formal kind with verbs and adjectives and words like please.

They let him keep thinking that, because really it was so much easier than potentially fouling up his mood and making it so that they were out of his favor later, when they needed it for fun things, like pranks or breaks or free VIP tickets to another band's concert.

"You-" he said grandly, spreading his arms wide, "Have a gig."

Carlos sprang back on the couch and began doing some kind of butt-shimmying dance that was probably more appropriate for someone younger, like say age five, and singing 'oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah'. James was mimicking said dance, although he kept his ass firmly on the couch and his mouth shut, as he was much more frightened of Gustavo's wrath than Carlos had ever been.

The record producer didn't enjoy either of their efforts, "Stop that."

When neither boy did, he turned to Kelly, "Please, make them stop."

Sure, _she_ got a please.

Kendall hurried to jab Carlos in the leg with his elbow. He was only a little amused when the dark haired boy whimpered and fell to his knees with a scandalized glare that merely prompted Logan to whack James upside the head.

"My hair!" the taller boy squeaked, giving Logan a look of pure loathing.

Yeah, Kendall might have gone about that different, but it got the job done.

Every time Kelly got involved she brought out her stupid foghorn. He didn't know about the other guys, but he had a healthy appreciation for his eardrums, and wanted them to continue working.

Carlos and James each began nursing their respective wounds, pouting. Kelly smirked, fingering the foghorn. She knew she had power over them. _That_ would have to be rectified. Kendall couldn't allow someone to go on domineering his friends with the threat of deafness for long, even if it was Kelly, and she was for the most part, nice.

He crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the couch, pretending the ceiling was the most riveting thing he'd ever seen in his life. He was plotting. Maybe they could nick it from her purse later this afternoon. Or maybe-

"Kendall!" Gustavo barked, eyes bulging out of his little piggy face, "You're not listening to me. Listen!"

"I would never- well, okay. I wasn't," he admitted, confident that he wouldn't get in trouble for being such a smartass, "What happened?"

"We're playing a small show in LA," Logan hissed, like everyone else in the room couldn't hear, "Tomorrow night."

"And you're going to do well, do you understand me?" Gustavo crossed his arms menacingly. Since Kendall already had his arms folded too, he decided to match the scowl twisting the record producer's lips. He had to be tough, otherwise they'd just get pushed around. Even if he was so completely frazzled over his idiotic hormones fucking with his _completely platonic_ feelings for his friends that last night sleep became a stranger, this was one thing he could still do.

He was a leader. He was fearless.

"Yessir," Logan, James, and Carlos replied in unison. They didn't have to be tough. They expected Kendall to do it for them.

After a beat, Kendall nodded, dropping the act.

A gig could be cool. They hadn't really played to anyone beside the Palm Woods crowd, and now that they were recording an honest to god album they needed to scrape up all the publicity they could get.

Even if he wasn't into this boy band thing, his friends were, and he wanted it to go well. Singing with Carlos, James, and Logan was nice.

He didn't mind the fame and wealth he'd been promised would follow, either.

Still, wanting it and actually making it happen were completely different. Their first 'single' had actually been a crappy bootleg track of one of their demos, released a few weeks before their photo shoot fiasco. That's how they'd managed to score the opportunity in the first place. Now the music video for Big Time Rush was close to being released. And they had a gig. All this playing around was close to becoming real.

Kendall wasn't sure if he could handle it.

But he had to.

" _And_ you're going to practice harmonies for the next five hours," the large man bellowed with a bit of a sneer, glowering down at the band's leader, even though Kendall had given up the belligerent, rebellious youth routine a few seconds ago.

Practice, they did. Because, much as he wanted to be stubborn and show Gustavo up for the sake of it, it wasn't like they could say no. It wasn't like any of them didn't want to practice.

Only thing was, sitting in a cramped studio with his three closest friends before had never been so, uh, troublesome.

James kept- like, nudging him. With his knee. And it was awkward; the tiny smiles that flit across James's face in between belting out whatever girl-crazed song Gustavo had penned for them. Kendall didn't know what to do with those smiles, and he'd been friends with James forever.

He'd thought the party and the kisses a few nights ago had meant nothing. James had been acting normally, or at least, what was normal for James. He'd been his usual self; joking, laughing, and taking new headshots every other day. When Kendall had attempted to broach the subject, James had waved it away, saying it _meant nothing_. It had all been _for fun_.

Then there was Logan. When Logan smiled, there was nothing behind it. There was no flirtatiousness or hidden meaning. Which was good. Maybe. Kendall thought.

Probably.

He'd known Logan since he was eight years old. They'd met in third grade when he spotted the then tiny kid teaching the girls' basketball team to score shots using geometry. Kendall had cornered him and asked if he could do the same for hockey.

He could. He did.

Even though Logan had little to no interest in contact sports, and even though James couldn't stand the kid's presence back then, Kendall managed to coerce him to join the team, because they were friends now, and Kendall liked having his friends close.

Of course he was more surprised than anyone when Logan got good. He wasn't quite as brutal as James, who had a reputation for being fierce on and off the ice to distract possible bullies from his growing future-popstar-persona. Nor was he as adept as Kendall, but Logan had definitely been one of their star players. So really, Kendall's selfishness had done Logan a favor.

Not that anything hockey related even mattered anymore.

Which kind of sucked.

Point being, Kendall just _did not_ understand Logan's new, magical attractiveness. Whatever his twisted hormones were feeling, Logan's obviously didn't reciprocate, because he liked girls- and oh fuck, he shouldn't have been thinking about Logan at all when James was pinning him with his eyes like that. Was he imagining it?

It could have been James's intensity, or it could have been the way Logan's arm kept brushing against his, or it could have been the way California was turning his friend's pheromones into some toxic love potion, but no matter what caused it, Kendall was having…technical difficulty.

Boners happened. They weren't like, some great mystery of the universe. Sometimes they even happened for no reason at all.

However this time, Kendall was pretty sure the reason was one of the guys standing next to him.

Even if he couldn't figure out which one.

"Stop, stop, _stop_!" Gustavo yelled over the intercom, nearly busting the speakers on Kendall's headphones with feedback, "Kendall, what the fu-"

At a stern they're-only-sixteen-practically-babies look from one of the sound guys, Gustavo changed direction, "I mean, _what_ is wrong with you today? You. Suck."

"I think he's just hungry, dude," Logan jumped to bat for him, glancing at Kendall in askance, "We've been at this _forever._ "

"Uh, yeah. Let's go with that," Kendall rubbed at his cheek, trying his hardest not to look guilty. Or distracted. Or completely turned on without even Kelly in the vicinity as an excuse. Couldn't she have gone on her stupid date later? Like, wasn't Gustavo's assistant mandated to work overtime, if only to control the large man's blood pressure?

"Fine! Wusses. I thought you hockey heads had endurance. Back here. Eight am. Tomorrow," Gustavo relented, pounding a fist on the mixer for good measure.

"You want to go to the beach, grab a burger?' Logan queried as they gathered up their shit, shoulders sagging in collective relief.

"I'm out," James announced as Kendall nodded. He frowned at his taller friend.

"You're turning down food? Since when was that something you like to do?"

"There are leftovers in the fridge back home. Besides, if we head to the beach we won't come back for like, two hours, and I'm exhausted."

"Seriously? It's like, ten o'clock."

"Dude," James sounded scandalized, "My face doesn't just look like this. Beauty sleep is a _requirement_."

"Yeah man, I'm beat," Carlos piped in, "Why don't you two head off without us?"

"Sure thing," Logan grinned, slinging an arm around Kendall's shoulders, "If we pick up any fine honeys with surfboards, we'll make sure to tell them our friends had to catnap."

"Don't make me kill you," James growled. Something flickered in his eyes, more than the teasing threat, but it was gone so quickly Kendall couldn't figure out what it had been.

\---  
  
The Pacific Ocean was probably Kendall's favorite part of California. Dusk had fallen while they ate their burgers from In-and-Out, animal style, oozing with ketchup, lathered in Thousand Island dressing, onions and slices of cheese peeking from between the two beef patties.

When they'd finished they'd traipsed down to the mostly empty beach, because the movies lied. People didn't spend all their time on the water out here. Just like the desert, it got cold at night, although nowhere near as cold as it was back home. Back in their real home.

The water was as cold as any Minnesota stream, but not nearly as clear. Nothing was clear out here, Kendall thought.

Laughing wildly, Logan tore off his shirt, throwing it down on the soft sand. He ran toward the water with abandon, and even though the waves were miniscule tonight, it kind of took Kendall's breath away.

Splashing into the ocean, Logan stood there, haloed by moonlight, his skin silvery and translucent. He wasn't exactly graceful as he thrashed through the waves, muscular thighs and the sleek planes of his chest dripping wet.

"Dude," he called out, whooping, "Aren't you coming?"

Kendall dug his feet into the sand, toes scraping over shells and remnants of cigarette butts. He was stuck there, immovable, struck by the ethereal kind beauty and raw power his friend projected, standing in the waves, a young Poseidon.

"I- right. Yeah, I'm coming," he sighed wearily, stripping off his t-shirt and bounding forward in a pale imitation of his usual limitless energy. The burger sat heavy in his stomach.

"I love it here. It's so- clean," Logan grinned, kicking at a wave.

"That probably wouldn't have been the adjective I'd use," Kendall shivered, wrapping his arms around his chest. His jeans were getting soaked.

"Well, it is. Remember last summer when I went to New York with my family? The water was filthy. Floating syringes and used condoms, man."

Kendall made a noise that vaguely sounded like 'eurgh'.

"That stuff is out there too," Logan gestured toward the horizon, pitch black sea meeting the midnight black, smog cloaked sky, his gaze dreamy and lost, "They just- hide it. California's coastline has a shorter continental shelf that the east coast's. They have pipelines that run out, past all the sea life, and drop all their trash in underwater canyons, where it won't float back up again. They can't do it back east because the pipes would have to be miles long and too hard to maintain. But here- they can tuck pollution away."

"Wow. You really are _such_ a geek."

Logan shoved him, the cold slap of his hockey calloused hands hitting Kendall's shoulders, sending him stumbling back into a wave. It broke over his head, and for a second he had vertigo. He couldn't tell which way was up under the dark water.

Just for a split second, he considered giving up. Drowning in three feet of water.

He broke the surface, his lungs heaving. When he glanced around, he couldn't find Logan anywhere in the murky salt water. There wasn't a glimpse of his friend in sight, not a pale neck or the arch of his foot or the bony length of his hands.

Then suddenly he burst from the water, throwing his arms around Kendall's neck and making sea creature noises, like he'd done when they were ten, swimming for the first time together at the local Y.

"Get off," Kendall twisted and turned his body, the feeling of Logan pressed up against him, behind him imprinting itself on his mind, even as he cracked up, even as he played the game.

"Rawr," Logan snickered, his breath hot on Kendall's neck.

"Dude, you are so- gay," Kendall slammed his body back, letting them both go under, letting the waves envelop them. It was like that day at the pool all over again. Logan struggled beneath him, and after Kendall was certain he'd established the fact that he was alpha male, he pulled his friend up, chuckling.

Logan sputtered, "You don't play fair!"

"But I won."

"You _always_ win," the smaller boy grinned a little, unable to stop himself. Kendall beamed back, because Logan's smile was infectious, and because he was so incredibly happy right then, at that moment. He felt full, but not from the food- he felt like he couldn't contain the thing glowing inside his chest, the thing that he'd always associated with friendship but now burned like so much more.

"I'm glad though," Logan continued, "You've been so- in your head lately. It's weird."

"You noticed?"

"Of course I noticed. How long have we been friends, moron?"

Kendall shifted self consciously, observing the way Logan's jeans were low on his hips, the indent of bone and the trail of dark hair leading below the denim waistline.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong then?"

Absofuckinglutely not.

He knew how this was going to go down. He was going to have to fake it.

Which wasn't something he liked to do. But Logan was there, drenched, a young god in jeans, and Kendall was so close to claiming his mouth that he could feel himself leaning forward, the compulsion grabbing hold.

There was a reason he hated fakers; it was because he was so goddamned good at being one.

Kendall had inherited his leadership skills from his mom. She was good at taking fury and twisting it into something tangible, something that motivated the people around her to _just be better_. Kendall could do the same thing with stress; he used it to his advantage. That's why he was so good under pressure, when boy demi-gods weren't around.

No one ever had to know that he'd stolen most of the good ideas he'd ever gotten from Logan, from sleepovers watching the history channel and learning strategy from chess games and conversations about everything theoretical. In times of need, inevitably it was one of their discussions that drifted through his head. Like the time they talked about driving laws and the zombie apocalypse, and how Logan would steal his elderly next door neighbors and their car to make sure he didn't get pulled over for driving alone with a permit only to have his brains munched on.

That was the idea that had gotten them to auditions.

Anyway, leadership was one thing. Kendall didn't mind that people liked to follow in his wake, even if he didn't understood why they'd want to. He even enjoyed it, because it kind of meant he was important.

But faking it? Well, he was good at lying. He was good at spinning stories like cobwebs until a person lost their train of thought. He was good at pretending to be someone else.

He'd inherited it from his dad.

Kendall's father wasn't someone he liked to think about often, or at all. He'd left Mrs. Knight when Katie was a baby. Kendall had been nine, and all he'd known was that his daddy had gone. There would be no more games of street hockey or all night Sega tournaments. There would be no more riding on the back of the Harley, feeling like if he spread his arms he might fly away. There would be no more feeling safe in the middle of the night when the monsters were lurking, because his mommy spent all her time crying and Katie bawled too, and Kendall had to be the strong one.

His dad had been the biggest faker of all. He'd pretended he _loved_ them.

James and Logan got him through it.

Kendall had decided he'd never, ever be like his father.

But sometimes, when he was desperate, the situation called for it.

"Nothing, dude. I'm just- homesick, I guess?"

"I thought you loved it here?"

"I do. Because- you guys are here. Even if I went home now, there'd be nothing there for me," his voice was stilted, and he was trying his best to sound mournful, which actually wasn't hard considering the circumstances, considering what he was actually avoiding, "But…I guess sometimes I miss everything."

"I get you," Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder in a brotherly fashion, "We all feel like that sometimes."

Yeah, Kendall was pretty sure Logan had never experienced what he was feeling that particular moment, but he wasn't going to quibble.

It was impossible to catch a cab home looking like drowned rats. Eventually, they promised a taxi driver that they'd pay twice his usual fare, and even then they were forced to sit on the man's company issued red windbreaker, squeezed close together in the backseat.

They tumbled out into the night in front of the Palm Woods, wet clothes clinging to their bodies, and for a second, Kendall remembered a different night, with a different friend. He missed the feel of James's palm in his, but it was fleeting.

"I can't wait for this concert," Logan confided in him as they made their way through the lobby, onto the elevator.

"It's going to be great," Kendall replied, his enthusiasm no longer forced. He really was looking forward to singing on stage, despite all his misgivings about Hollywood.

"I know. And imagine the girls," Logan smirked, even though his self esteem when it came to real, live females was shaky at best, "They're going to be screaming our name."

They walked off the elevator, out into the hallway. It stretched out before them, empty, lifeless. Their footsteps were muted by the thick carpeting, but their wet, sandy feet still squelched inside their shoes.

"Keep on dreaming, stud," Kendall tried to change the topic, "I wonder what our set list is going to be."

"We find out tomorrow. But the girls, man-"

He wasn't entirely sure what came over him. Maybe he just wanted Logan to shut up about the _stupid fucking_ girls.

Curling his fingers around the front of Logan's t-shirt, Kendall yanked him forward. The smaller boy stumbled into him, head jerking up sharply.

Kendall kissed him.

It wasn't like it had been with James. There was no clash of their teeth and their tongues and hands everywhere. No this was a little dizzying, a little terrifying, and a little too brief. Kendall's lips brushed over Logan, stealing their warmth, stealing the shocked breath his friend exhaled.

Then he let go.

Logan stared at him, and his eyes weren't full of mischief or laughter any longer. They'd gone dark, and the creasing in the corners spoke of betrayal and the wrinkles in his forehead meant confusion, and the way he practically bolted towards the door of 2J meant he probably never wanted to see Kendall ever again.

And it was even better, because the door opened before he even reached it. Kendall watched as Logan heaved past James, who's tall, lanky frame blocked the doorway. James, who looked toward him and understood, maybe in an instant, what had happened.

"So that's it, then?" James demanded, the incredulous look on his face matched by the heart-wrenching tone of his voice, "You really chose him?"

"James-" Kendall began, but the taller boy was already turning back inside, walking away.

Kendall had always been good at fixing things.

Only this time he thought maybe he'd broken something that couldn't be put back together.


	5. I've Been Tired From The Minute I Woke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be it. This was supposed to be his once in a lifetime, amazing opportunity. So why couldn't he just get his head in the game? Why did everything seem better out there, beyond that window, even when Kendall knew that if he were to drive toward those lights all he'd find was the grimy, neon glow of Hollywood? There would be beautiful nymphets tottering around on stiletto heels, trying to get someone, anyone to notice them. Junkies sprawled out in allies like kings lording over their kingdom of rats and garbage. The occasional someone who was actually Someone, if you followed the word of US Weekly and Star Magazine like they were the new Bible.

Kendall had fucked up. Big time.

Logan was avoiding him. Every time Kendall came close, he made a sound like a frightened chimpanzee and ducked out of sight. James was barely tolerating his presence, and Kendall only half understood why. It wasn't like he'd promised James anything. It wasn't like James had wanted anything from him, at least not the way James told it. So really, what right did he have to be so mad?

It had been three days since his friends had decided on this freeze out, since they'd drawn their borders, their latitude and longitude lines and left Kendall on the other side. He was at a loss. At this point, Carlos was even regarding him like maybe he'd contracted an incurable form of cooties.

Which might have been why Kendall was sitting at home the night before their first gig, watching the skyline of Hollywood, transforming the dark, blocky shapes into turrets and balustrades and castle spires in his mind.

Everyone else was out or busy. The apartment was quiet. He stared out the window at the lights that winked and twinkled in the distance. Red, orange, yellow, and silvery blue danced like flame, stretched out to the horizon. His chin rest atop his arms folded along the window's ledge, and his nose was nearly pressed against the glass, breath fogging it up and obscuring half of the landscape from his view.

He knew he should have been focusing on repairing his relationship with his best friends. Or at the very least, practicing his synchronized dance moves in front of a mirror so that come tomorrow he wouldn't look like a lifeless marionette. Instead he was listless, held captive by his imagination and the mirage of glamour towering off in the distance.

This was supposed to be _it_. This was supposed to be his once in a lifetime, amazing opportunity. So why couldn't he just get his head in the game? Why did everything seem better out there, beyond that window, even when Kendall knew that if he were to drive toward those lights all he'd find was the grimy, neon glow of Hollywood? There would be beautiful nymphets tottering around on stiletto heels, trying to get someone, anyone to notice them. Junkies sprawled out in allies like kings lording over their kingdom of rats and garbage. The occasional someone who was actually Someone, if you followed the word of US Weekly and Star Magazine like they were the new Bible.

Even if he was there, he'd stand on the street and wonder if the far off lights of another city promised something better.

He wondered if anywhere was better.

Because as different as California was from Minnesota, Kendall was starting to think it was also kind of the same. Fighting with his best friends felt no different here, basking in the sunlight and the palm trees than it did back in that winter wonderland. It still sucked ass.

Even though he was in this new realm of starlets and harlots and fakery, he was still just growing up. The obstacles might have differed from those he would have found back home, but they were obstacles all the same.

He'd imagined that this place was a new realm of monsters. But he wasn't any knight in shining armor, even if he was Kendall Knight with a capital 'K'. He had no practice slaying dragons. He was just a kid, one who was good at bluffing his way past ogre-like record producers, doe-eyed sirens, cyclopean bad boys, and the hydra-headed problems that came at him from every direction.

The front door banged open and James barged in. He looked amazing. Kendall wasn't sure if his friend had always been so beautiful or if it was something about the ravaged, raw glance James threw him before disappearing down the hall.

He wasn't sure why people were always prettier when they were wrecked. When they were damaged goods. He'd thought the same thing about his mom after his dad, the bastard, had left. Even with tear stains on her face, she'd been the most gorgeous thing his nine year old eyes had ever seen.

Now it was the same with James, but Kendall was the bastard.

Sighing, Kendall wrote his name in the mist he'd created by breathing on the window. The glass felt cool on his fingertips as he traced the angles and edges, the loop of the 'e' and the 'a'.

Then he erased it with his fist, like maybe he could erase himself.

He escaped to his bedroom, hoping sleep might make things clearer somehow.

It was a no go. He couldn't really sleep with Carlos bouncing around on his bed. For a minute, he just stared, reminded that outside his sulking, broody existence, he still had friends. Crazy, eccentric friends who were getting black marks all over his bedspread with their sneakers.

"Carlos, what are you doing?"

"It's called parkour. I found it on the internet. It's a state of being," the dark haired boy declared proudly, jumping so high his helmeted head cracked on the ceiling.

"Alright. But does your state of being have to take over my room?"

"I need to make it out of the building," Carlos pointed to the window near Kendall's bed and then patted his helmet, "Yours is the only one that unlatches."

Warily, Kendall replied, "Dude. You do know this is the second floor, right?"

"Exactly," Carlos grinned, jumping against the ceiling again.

"Did you ask Logan about this?" he tried to be the voice of reason, because usually Carlos always consulted Logan before doing something especially idiotic. Even if he didn't always listen, Logan at least held some sway over their zany friend.

It probably had something to do with how they'd met. Logan had been the one to usher Carlos into their group in sixth grade, even though Carlos had joined their hockey team nearly half a year before. At first, Carlos had thought the three of them were cool, and decided to make them his friends. Kendall and James had mostly blown him off, because the kid was like a monkey, constantly doing ridiculous stunts that landed him in detention and cost him practices. Logan was the one who finally gave him a chance.

Carlos hadn't changed. He still lived on the edge, so much so that sometimes it made even Kendall jealous. Hell, he didn't just live on it, he ran on it, ran so fucking far away that sometimes it was hard to find him in the insanity of it all. He just ran and never looked back, except sometimes, for Logan.

"I would've, but I think he's on a date-"

Seriously?

"-with Camille," Carlos continued, smiling so wide that his face looked like it might split in half.

_Seriously?_

"Why would he do that?"

"Dude, chick's hot."

"She's insane!" Kendall hated the way his voice nearly cracked. Logan avoided him for days, and now he was suddenly off with the method actress who slapped Kendall in the face every five minutes? That was just cruel.

"Insanely hot," Carlos snorted, bouncing back on his heels, trying to gain momentum. He'd already pushed up the window and taken out the screen, and Kendall was reminded of the looming problem.

On the one hand, Gustavo would kill Carlos if he ended up breaking a leg before their show the next night. On the other, Kendall's bed looked extremely inviting, and it had been a long, long day.

Ah, fuck it.

"Go for it, buddy."

Carlos beamed, ever the daredevil. He balanced on the sill and threw Kendall a carefree salute.

That was when Logan barged in with a rush of hot air and the heady scent of too-much cologne. When Kendall glanced up, it almost looked like maybe Logan had something to say that didn't have to do with Carlos doing something moronic, but those words died on his lips.

"What," he screeched instead, "is going on?"

"Carlos is parkouring."

Kendall wasn't really sure if 'parkouring' was a word, but then he wasn't really sure what 'parkour' was, other than 'a state of being'. He'd have to Google it later.

Logan nodded like he actually knew what the fuck it was, "Yeah. No."

He climbed onto Kendall's bed, which was kind of hot, although it would've been nicer if he was in a more compromising position, shooed Carlos away, and closed the window. Then he glared at both of them, which brought the hotness level down- actually, not really. He was sat cross legged on Kendall's bed, looking rather ravish-able.

"No?" Carlos asked, "Why not?"

Logan tilted his head to the side, the expression on his face making it obvious that he didn't understand why neither of them seemed to see the error of their ways, "Uh, because you'll die?"

"I won't," Carlos insisted, "Trust me. This'll be great."

"Yeah, for two seconds. Until you break something."

"Sacrifices have to be made for art," Carlos argued.

"I don't care if you damage yourself," Logan explained patiently, "But when you get injured, you turn into the whiniest asshole ever. I'm not willing to sacrifice _my sanity_ for your art. Remember the time you fractured your wrist in eighth grade?"

Kendall winced. He'd forgotten about that. Logan had a point.

Which wasn't fair, because Logan was a Camille-dating jerk, and needed to get off Kendall's bed and out of Kendall's room pronto.

And he needed to stop looking so sexy. That was also a problem.

"You-" Carlos declared, "Are a total buzzkill."

Logan crossed his arms too, looking supremely unconcerned with the insult. When it became obvious he wasn't going to budge on the whole bounding out the window dealio, Carlos tried a new tactic, whining, "Why don't you want me to discover my inner self, Logan?"

Rolling his eyes, the smarter boy replied, "Go on. Discover you inner self all you like. But if your inner self gets splattered all over the pavement, everybody else is going to discover it too."

The olive-skinned boy opened his mouth to protest, and Logan added vindictively, "Maybe even some dogs with really small bladders."

"You would _not_ let a dog pee on my corpse," Carlos gasped, scandalized.

"I would if you were stupid enough to jump out the window after I explicitly told you not too," Logan retorted with a cocky little smile that warmed Kendall's insides.

"Fine," the smaller boy said grumpily, "You win."

The smirk on Logan's lips said it all. Of course he'd won. He always won.

"Good. Now get out. I have to talk to Kendall," he jerked his finger toward the door.

"Why? About what? Is it about your date? I want to hear about your date!"

"It's not about my date. It's about-" Logan's eyes darted guiltily toward Kendall, "Homework."

"That- I do not want to hear about," Carlos nodded, and then singsonged, "Night, guys."

"Night," both boys chorused in reply, even though Kendall's heart felt like it might have leapt up into his throat. Logan wanted to talk. _Shit_. That could not be good. And it definitely wasn't about homework. Logan hadn't come to Kendall for help with his homework in like, ever.

He had to be calm. He had to be composed. He had to stop himself from wrenching open the window and trying to jump out. That would definitely set a bad precedent for Carlos not doing that parkour thing. Plus it would probably hurt like a bitch.

Then again, the pain seemed preferable to the impending conversation.

Kendall leaned back against the wall, propping himself up on his elbows, and did his best to look composed, "So, 'sup?"

He watched as Logan settled back on his elbows too, beside him, still cross legged. The dark eyed boy wasn't looking at him, which didn't really seem like a good sign.

Kendall floundered for something to say, trying to fill the gap and ward off all talks about his idiocy, "How was your date? Did you score?"

"Look- you-" Logan sputtered, desperately searching for words, "-you kissed _me_."

"I did," Kendall agreed. Well, _fuck_. Obviously, he wouldn't be able to change the subject now.

Still, there was no sense denying it, or trying to claim it was a mistake. Only thing was, he wasn't sure whether he was supposed to say that he regretted it or admit that he would do it a million more times, given half a chance.

"Kendall," Logan squeaked out, "How can you be so calm about this?"

"You want me to freak out?"

"I- yeah. That'd be great, actually. It'd make me feel a whole hell of a lot better."

"Sorry. Fresh out of panic," Kendall couldn't help but crack a sheepish grin. Even though he knew the situation was so fucking serious that the sudden glee he was experiencing was probably an onset of hysteria, he couldn't stop himself.

Logan's shoulders slumped like he'd fervently been hoping that Kendall really would begin having a Chernobyl size meltdown, right in front of his eyes. Like that would've actually made anything okay.

"Great. Peachy. So what do we do? I don't know what you want from me. Do you want to- I don't know, be my boyfriend?" he waved his hand in the air vaguely, not even sure what having Kendall as a boyfriend might entail.

Kendall snorted, "Not likely."

The answer was instantaneous, and true. Dating Logan was the last thing on his mind. He'd mostly been focused on the banging part of their relationship in his fantasies. Romance and rainbows had never been part of his mental equation.

"Then- what? What do we do, Kendall?"

He didn't know. Logan was always looking to Kendall for instructions, even though he probably had at least a hundred IQ points on the taller boy.

Sucky thing was, Kendall had absolutely nothing to say. No wise advice. No split second plans.

"Because," Logan added slowly, "This could ruin us."

Kendall _always_ had ideas. He was the snap decision maker. He was the risk taker. Logan was asking because he expected guidance, when Kendall had none. Zip. Zero. Nada. Not this time.

After all, if Logan had analyzed the risks and been left wanting, how could Kendall possibly leave it up to chance? Nine times out of ten, he didn't mind losing when there was so much to win, but in this scenario…well, there'd never been so much at stake, either. James and Logan weren't strangers he could use up and dispose of. They were his best friends. When he pictured himself at ninety, they were still by his side, squabbling about the proper way to wear hairpieces and clean denchers.

So for the first time in his life, Kendall didn't leap. He didn't take a risk.

"We do nothing," he breathed, finally catching Logan's eye when the dark haired boy glanced toward him, startled, "It was a mistake. I mean. I was just joking around with you. April Fool's."

"It's May," Logan replied warily, not quite buying Kendall's explanation, maybe because he had a _brain_.

"Don't be a tool, dude. I can't limit my jokes to one month."

"It was…a joke?"

"Yeah. No, a mistake," he corrected, unable to make his mind, when really it hadn't been either. When really it had been the intoxicating way Logan smelled, the quirk of his lips when he smiled, and the dark flash of intensity in his intelligent eyes.

Logan raised his eyebrows. He smelled the same, his lips twisted the same, and that intelligence was still there. It felt impossible not to lean across the bed and just tackle him, then and there.

Instead, Kendall forced himself to say, "Let's just forget it ever happened."

For a minute, he thought Logan was going to argue. He saw something dart across his friend's face that was gone before he could pin it down.

"If that's what you want," Logan replied dubiously, looking away again, examining the water stain on the ceiling.

"It- it is," Kendall gave Logan his best devil-may-care grin, the one that most people described as scary, but the right kind of girl thought was charming, "We're good, right?"

"Yeah. We're good."

Kendall felt relief settle over him, and he slouched even further down on his bed. Great. At least- well, it wasn't ideal, but at least that was one problem taken care of.

It was only the following night at their show that he realized Logan had no intention of forgetting anything at all.

\---  
  
The club was some dingy little joint with a makeshift stage set up in the dark, smoky shadows behind the dance floor. The walls were stark and concrete, the wooden tables were etched with the kind of graffiti that was usually found in classrooms, and Kendall had to stop Carlos from jotting down numbers promising a 'good time' at least three different instances.

Empty of everyone but employees during their preliminary setup, it kind of reminded Kendall of these pictures he'd seen of a crack den, if crack dens had state of the art sound systems and bars stocked full of Patron and Cristal.

Then about an hour after sunset, the place began to fill up. Girls in fish nets, thigh highs, and tight jeans packed together like sardines in a can. The bartender flicked on the lights, making the rows of bottles shimmer an icicle blue-white and the dance floor glitter metallic colors. Waitresses lit candles on the tables, making people's faces glow angelically. It was like the club had been transformed, a worn down old broad made young with the application of her makeup.

Suddenly the stage they stood on belonged to one of the most happening clubs in Hollywood.

A few adventurous souls wandered up the stage, asking for autographs and telling them how much they'd liked Big Time Rush's bootleg. Kendall couldn't believe people knew who they were. Back home, he'd had a friend who was in a band, a band that played Irish pubs and birthday parties and even after two years had never hit it big. Yet here Kendall hadn't even sung live, not even once, and people still knew who he was. He had fans.

It was kind of fucking incredible.

It might have been even more incredible if he wasn't a huge bundle of nerves. He hadn't had a chance to talk to James all day, and now the taller boy had donned a mask of icy professionalism that Kendall couldn't seem to crack, even with his arsenal of wisecracks and overt physical affection. Meanwhile, he couldn't get a read on Logan at all, and it was making him even more anxious.

Rightfully so.

The club was packed to the brim by the time they got to go on, after a rather anticlimactic sound check. Kendall's hands were trembling, the way they did before a huge hockey game, and even though he knew the shaking would vanish the second it was time to step up, he couldn't stop it in the interim. He was always a wreck, until he wasn't anymore. He tried to sneak a shot of tequila, but Kelly spotted him and drank it herself. Bitch.

"You guys ready?" Carlos hissed during Gustavo's introduction, bouncing in excitement. His frenetic energy was a constant, and it made Kendall feel slightly better.

"Yeah," Logan replied brightly, but his voice was a squeak. He looked like he might puke. James rolled his eyes and didn't answer. He'd been ready his entire life.

Kendall just nodded, unable to force out any words at all. When Logan flashed him an easy smile, despite his green pallor, Kendall returned it, but only just.

The music began.

He stopped trembling.

Kendall launched into one of their newer songs, the one about living a dream and being true to yourself and having fun in the sun. He belted it out, grabbing the attention of all those plasticized girls in the crowd with secret fire in their eyes and hope in their hearts. He saw it, when they began to notice the four boys on the stage. He saw the crowd metamorphose into this living, breathing entity that hung onto his every word.

He sang to the girls who had fled Bumblefuck, Middle America to change themselves, to make their life into something more, and to the girls who had always lived in this Bizarro-world of a town, unable to break free. He felt like maybe he was singing away their pain and their helplessness and all their disappointments, or at least, that was how they watched him. He was their king.

Like Midas, he turned them golden.

His friends chimed in around him, taking on their solos, harmonizing when they needed to. They danced in unison, jerky movements turning into flowing, graceful steps. Things they'd practiced a zillion times before, finally coming alive in front of all these people. Kendall felt like his heart was in his mouth, and everyone could hear it, but it didn't matter, because they all seemed to like the sound. People were dancing, and it wasn't just the girls out on the floor.

That's when things got weird.

Logan leaned into his side, air guitaring as improv. Their backs pressed together when they were supposed to be halfway across the stage from each other, and even if it drove their target demographic wild, Kendall could tell Gustavo was fuming in his VIP booth.

The smaller boy kept darting heavy lidded looks in Kendall's direction, smiling at key lyrics he sang, winking between songs.

Logan had balls, and oh, Kendall very much wanted to know what the hell he thought he was doing. Because it kind of maybe felt like his dark eyed friend was…well, flirting with him.

Which was impossible. They'd covered this the previous night. And even if they hadn't, there was no way Logan would suddenly change his stance on being a romantic interest for his best friend.

Yet he was stalking Kendall around beneath the flashing lights, dancing and smiling and touching him _everywhere_.

Kendall had dated his fair share of aggressive girls, because it was never worth it if there was no challenge, but he was one hundred percent certain that being actively pursued by Logan Mitchell wouldn't be anything at all like being chased by some chick who just couldn't take 'no' for an answer. This felt different already, like being hunted across the stage. Logan was looking at him like he was fucking prey, like he looked at math equations he couldn't solve.

Few things scared Kendall, but yeah, that look in Logan's eyes directed towards him was straight up terrifying. So Kendall sang his heart out and pretended he didn't see it, because if focused on that, tripping off the stage would become more than a possibility.

On top of it all, even if they were practically young gods with all these enthusiastic fans at their feet, James was keeping his distance. So much so that Kendall was beginning to make a game out of following him, of slinging his arm around James's shoulders and pulling him close so they could sing in each other's mics, just to see how scowly and narrow eyed he'd get.

"What the fuck are you guys doing? Is there like, a game of tag going on up there that I don't know about? Because I fucking love tag," Carlos demanded in between sets, when they were all downing water like mad men.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," James replied, crossing his arms.

"Me neither," Kendall shrugged.

"Logan," Carlos tilted his head toward the most reasonable of them, but Logan just grinned, "Seriously? None of you are going to tell me?"

Kendall would've really liked to know what was going on as well, but he figured it wasn't something Carlos needed to hear. Only, after that, during their second set, Carlos got moody. He was slightly out of synch on the dance steps, and every time Logan got up in Kendall's personal space, his voice broke.

And that, yeah, that was _weird_.

Carlos never got moody. Carlos was pretty much the least moody person Kendall had ever met.

He was thinking too much, and he stumbled over some lyrics, and this vein in Gustavo's head looked like it was about to pop, even from a distance.

For the first time, Kendall realized being in a boy band was _hard._

On stage, in front of all those people, he had to do his best to pull it together, even when his whole world felt like it was a giant fucking puzzle, one that he'd finished a long time ago and left on a coffee table, only to come back and find it was falling apart. None of the pieces fit right anymore.

And he was kind of terrified that they never would again.


	6. After I Have Travelled So Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It felt like all his excuses we're being erased in a single blow. All day he'd been denying Logan because he didn't want to hurt James, because he didn't want to hurt their friendship. Now James was telling him to go for it, and what did that even mean?

"Well that wasn't _so_ bad," Kelly enunciated carefully, her arms crossed over the clipboard she had pressed to her chest. It kind of made her cleavage prevalent, but Kendall didn't even notice. He was more occupied with the way Logan's leg was pressing into his on the couch; it felt like his skin was getting fucking branded, 'Logan's Property' even through the denim of his jeans. The early morning sunlight was really bright, and James had sprayed on enough Cuda to asphyxiate any animal or child with small enough lungs, and Carlos was _still_ sulking.

Also, the look on Gustavo's face was rather off-putting.

After their show the previous night, Kendall had expected Gustavo to start screaming about how embarrassing their behavior had been, how it was so humiliating he could just _die_ , but instead their producer was being uncharacteristically quiet. Which kind of made Kendall feel like he was the one who was mortified enough to crawl under a rock somewhere, but he wasn't going to just give in like that.

It hadn't been _his_ fault the show had sucked.

Okay, maybe he'd contributed. A little.

"I mean," Kelly continued, "Carlos and Kendall were…slightly off key at the end there, and James, it wouldn't have hurt if you'd smiled through the last few songs, but, uh…the first set was fantastic! And, erm, Logan was excellent during the second!"

Poor Kelly. Always trying to be upbeat and supportive. Like they hadn't heard her mumble, "Which is really weird, now that I think about it."

"Hey!" Logan squawked, glaring at her, "How is that weird?"

"Come on. When you got here you could barely sing or dance," she shrugged, "Do you really want me to sugar coat it for you?"

"Eh. Nah, makes sense," he relaxed back into the couch they were seated on with an easy smile, as if to say of course he was the best one up on that stage last night. He always had been the top of his class.

But this time he had totally cheated.

"Guys," Kelly darted a nervous glance at Gustavo who was positively catatonic, "Do you want to tell us what exactly went wrong up there? Did you all get stage fright?"

She said it like it was some kind of contagious disease. Like they weren't all used to putting on a show in front of hundreds of screaming fans, and okay, maybe hitting a puck with a stick and singing were two entirely different acts, but still, it was the same concept. It required performing for people, and they'd been doing it since nineteen ninety whenever.

"No," James said grumpily, sounding slightly offended by the accusation. He glared at Kendall, screaming 'this-is-all-your-fault' with his eyes.

"Absolutely not," Carlos added in this cocky voice that belied the fact he'd never gotten stage fright his entire life. The effect was kind of undermined by the pout on his face.

"Nope," Kendall chimed in, making a popping sound on the 'p'. He felt really, really bad. He didn't like disappointing people; it made his stomach turn like he'd swallowed something slimy.

"Then what? What happened?"

"Is it really that big a deal?" Kendall tried, hoping there was still a way to salvage the whole situation, so that Gustavo and Kelly and James might stop looking at him like _that,_ "I mean, everyone seemed to be having a good time."

"It's…not huge," Kelly agreed reluctantly, "The industry buffs we brought in to watch all left by the end of the first set, so that's not an issue, and you're right- the audience barely noticed your mistakes. But-"

"She's trying to say that we can't sell you as a band if you're going to give crap performances," Gustavo finally cut in, his eyes still distant. There was no anger on his face at all, no emotion.

Just the facts.

"It was a onetime thing," Kendall tried to explain, guilt burrowing so deep inside him it was settling into his bones, "We were all distracted."

He darted a look toward Logan, who was supremely unconcerned.

Kendall kind of wanted to punch him in his adorable fucking face.

Gustavo frowned, "By what? What _the hell_ is more important than your first live show?"

Kendall opened his mouth, and then closed it. There was no way he could tell Gustavo and Kelly what had been going on with their personal lives. No way.

When he didn't answer, Gustavo said grumpily, "That's what I thought."

"Next time we'll do better. I promise," Kendall wished he could just start getting things right already. It felt like it had been forever since he'd done something good, something he was proud of. This show could have been that, it should have been a memory he'd cling to for the rest of his life; the first step toward making it big time.

Only, now it was the following morning and all he could remember was the way Logan kept staring at him like he had x-ray vision and could see right into Kendall's brain, and the way James had ignored him like he was a perfect stranger, and the way Carlos's glare had felt like daggers throughout the entire second set.

"You're lucky there's going to be a next time," Gustavo snapped.

"We've already laid down your tracks, but guys, the release isn't for a few weeks yet, and if you establish yourselves as suckish live, there is every possibility that Griffin could give the order to scrap your entire album," Kelly warned, clutching her clipboard even more tightly. She didn't want this project to fall through any more than they did. It would be career suicide.

"He can do that?" James squeaked, glancing back and forth between Kendall and Gustavo for confirmation. Kendall just shrugged. He had no idea what was within Griffin's ability to do; the man was insane.

"He's a billionaire, dude. He can do anything," Carlos hissed, "He could buy Mars."

"No one can buy Mars, idiot," Logan nudged Carlos, whose face flushed.

Kelly clapped her hands, "Guys! The point we're trying to make here is that for your next concert, you need to step up your game. We've booked you at a club two weeks from now, so get your act together, okay?

"Okay," all four boys chorused,

"Can we, uh- go now?" Logan asked, his voice meek.

"I think so," Kelly frowned at Gustavo, waiting for him to object. When he didn't, they stood, edging out of the room one by one.

Kendall was the last one, and he was almost out the door when-

"Dogs!" Gustavo growled, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, "Back here. Now. We have work to do."

\---  
  
When they stumbled home that night in stupor of still-ringing melodies and exhaustion, all Kendall wanted was a thousand years of sleep. But first his mother wanted to discuss his phone bill, of all things, and how he'd spent too much time the previous month texting the guys back in Minnesota about hockey, and how they were doing in the standings. Kendall had patiently explained that how many texts he sent off didn't even matter because Rocque Records was footing the bill. His mother had retaliated that expecting them to pay for the exorbitant amount of time he spent playing with his phone was rude, and would stop immediately. Kendall agreed, because sometimes his mom was scary, and besides, his bed was calling him. Only then, Katie was having a nightmare and couldn't get back to sleep, so Kendall spent another half hour singing her all her favorite lullabies that she was supposedly too old for until she drifted off to dreamland.

By the time he escaped into his room, Kendall was shocked he could still keep his eyes open. It had been a long fucking day.

He didn't get this town, or why one bad concert mattered. In the abstract, sure, he kind of understood, but his mind fought with him, told him that in real life things could never be so cut and dry. Back in snow country, if he flubbed a hockey game, there was always another one, unless it was playoffs or nationals or something. He could see why Gustavo and Kelly would be angry if they'd messed up their first set, the one all the industry execs saw, but he didn't understand why the second one mattered. As much as he advocated taking risks and never having regrets, Kendall also firmly believed in second chances.

The idea that one might not present itself was foreign. That only happened in the adult world, the one he was still too young to understand.

God, he was only sixteen. One fucking mistake couldn't destroy everything they'd built, could it?

Of course it could.

He threw himself down on his bed, hating California more and more by the minute. He should have known better than to mess around here, with its sea monsters and winged beasts, where everything was murky and make believe. With his head on his pillow he could see out the window, out toward the shapes and lights of all of Hollywood, with its sharp toothed vampires on casting couches, and too many emaciated, broken actresses and actors with lion hearts that kept them forging on, only to be broken once, twice, a thousand times more until they withered away to dust in the canyons. Sitting in coffee shops, drinking espresso macchiato ambrosia were all those young demigods and screen writer oracles who saw the world the way it really was or the way it should be, who would observe all the emotion and movement most people missed, right up until they stopped being able to see anything at all anymore. Right up until they were unable to write with caffeine jittery hands.

Somewhere out there were lush valleys and soaring cliffs, all carefully tended because everyone was so damn careful to just be perfect, because then they couldn't get hurt, because if things weren't perfect everyone might see that they were all turning into monsters.

Kendall thought if the whole damn state crumbled off the edge of the continent, Atlantis sinking in the aphrodisiac Pacific, the world might be better off.

But there were things to love beneath the façade, boys with the lungs of sirens and dragons with the hearts of people and girls with the smiles of beautiful muses, and if it all disappeared in one cataclysmic event he knew he would mourn because for all the fakery, for all the grime, he was a part of it now.

He was a boy with a hockey stick masquerading as a sword and a voice that made people breathe like they were getting oxygen for the first time in their life. He had three best friends who were siren-boys, but more, so much more, stranger than any real mythical beast could ever be.

His breathing slowed, and he was just about to fall into the realm of dreams when there was a knock on his door. Then a light, and brightness flooded in from the hallway, and Logan.

Because his day couldn't get any longer.

"Um," Kendall said, his voice scratchy, "Hi?"

"We need to talk," Logan didn't turn the lights on in his room, but immediately sat down on his bed. On his _legs_.

Logan kind of needed to lay off the In and Out. Kendall's toes were now going numb.

"Yeah, I kind of figured. Way to make our first concert bomb, man."

"Me?" he squeaked indignantly, "Dude, you were the one who had like, a vocal meltdown. Didn't you hear Kelly? I was _excellent_."

"Right," Kendall sleepily rolled his eyes.

Smug bastard. Why didn't Logan want him to drift off? Why did he want to crush Kendall's legs instead? Didn't he know Kendall had a healthy appreciation for sleep? And circulation. And by a healthy appreciation, he meant a deep, passionate love. Because Kendall was pretty sure that if he got some slumber and feeling back in his ankles, all would be right with the world.

"I have no idea what was up with James and Carlos, though," Logan continued, all bright eyed and bushy tailed and obnoxious.

"Me neither," the taller boy agreed disinterestedly.

"They've been acting weird all day. Actually, I think James has been acting like a space case all week."

"Weird," Kendall piped in after an extraordinarily long pause where he finally caught on that he was supposed to say something. His mind was fuzzy, and he was so close. All he needed to do was close his eyes.

"Kendall, why do you like me? Is it because you saw me naked?"

He was suddenly, irrevocably awake, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Wait, what? I- don't like you."

"You kissed me. How can you not like me? The entire act implies liking. Or do you just kiss everyone? Are you some kind of closet kissing slut?"

Logan was joking, but Kendall didn't find any of it funny. All he could think about was how he'd already fucked up their concert, and he couldn't screw over their friendship, too. Even if Logan sitting on top of him in his bed was maybe a little arousing, now that he had the mental capability to pay attention to it.

Keeping his voice even, he said, "Didn't we just cover this? I'm positive we had this conversation already."

"You're right. We did. It was a mistake. A mis-take. Only that's one fucked up mistake, Kendall."

"God. Judgmental," he accused, cringing.

Logan changed tactics, "Look, I was confused, and I had to- check some things out. But I'm not confused anymore. And I don't think you made a mistake."

His gaze was intense, freaky. For a second, it felt like Logan might lean down and kiss him. Kendall shimmied away, freeing his feet, fighting to draw a breath.

What did that even mean? Logan was confused? Well, okay, he kind of had an idea what it meant if all that onstage flirting last night was any indication, but- _shit._

"Yeah. Except…I did. I'm sorry, Logan."

Unfortunately, Logan was way too smart for his own good, "You do know I'm not taking that for an answer?"

_Shit._

"Um. Okay. But you have to, because I can prove it. Because-" Kendall's mind race, fighting the sludge of exhaustion, "-I'vegotadatewithJo."

"You've- excuse me?" Logan demanded incredulously, "I didn't quite catch that."

"Got. A date. With, you know, Jo," he articulated, hating himself on the spot, because he hadn't seen Jo since the night she'd been playing foosball in their apartment before he went to that party with James. Back when this whole horrible mess started. He certainly hadn't had time to ask her on a date since then, what with all the potentially life-destroying drama he'd been undergoing.

"Why?"

"Because she's a girl. Who I like."

Shit, shit, shit. Why did he go and open his big mouth? All he'd wanted was to make Logan stop talking about how much he maybe possibly liked Kendall, because there was every chance that if he'd kept on at it Kendall might have just pulled his face down and- no, he couldn't let himself think about it.

Logan studied him, his skepticism obvious. In the darkness of Kendall's room, the lights of the city made his face seem to glow. Eventually, he relented, "Fine. We should- make it a double date then."

"A what?"

"A double date. You and Jo, me and Camille. All cozy-like. It'll be fun!"

Logan's definition of fun _obviously_ didn't match Kendall's.

\---  
  
Kendall glanced around Jo's room, feeling awkward.

The dresser was covered in pots of eyeshadow and glitter the size of his thumb, tubes of lipgloss in every shade of pink, red, and coral, and makeup brushes with bristles shaped like fans and squares and razor sharp points. Bowls of beaded bracelets and woven wraps decorated at least three different surfaces, and more clothes than he'd ever seen in his life spilled out of the closet, from gauzy dresses to designer denim jeans.

He felt like an alien observer in this new land of _girl_. It was weird, too, because Jo was so natural, so effortless; he hadn't thought she was into all this fashion stuff.

"Hey," she called from the bathroom down the hall, "I'll be ready in a second. Can you grab my purse?"

"Uh," Kendall frowned, searching the room. He saw at least fifteen different purses, "Which one?"

She laughed, "The black one, on my bed!"

He did, bringing it over to her when she was done applying all that makeup, so much that it looked like she had none on at all.

They met Camille and Logan in the lobby. Logan was reclining on one of the couches, watching a college hockey game on TV, while Camille paced back and forth, practicing lines for an upcoming audition. When she saw Kendall, her eyes lit up, and he barely had time to wince before she stalked over and slapped him. The sting of it made his cheek go numb.

Then she smiled and hugged him and Jo in quick succession, "Hi, guys."

"You have got to stop doing that," Kendall muttered, rubbing the side of his face.

"Sorry. _90210_ audition."

The four of them went to a French restaurant one of the girls had picked out. The food was great and the atmosphere was romantic. Camille and Jo spent half the date talking about some show about Long Island debs that was pretty much unadulterated smut.

A month ago, Kendall would have been ecstatic to be out on a double date with the prettiest girl in the world and his best friend. Jo had a sweet smile, her lips shone like rock candy crystals, and her laughter was devilish, promising mayhem.

Kendall had always thought it would be easy to fall for a girl like her, sugar and spice and one of the rarest fish in the sea. Only, he _had_ fallen for her, for the way she reveled in anarchy like it was all part of her comfort zone, and the way she thought his friends were adorable when most girls thought they were immature jerks, and the way she was ambitious and had her own thing and she was so, so beautiful. He fell and fell and now when he looked at her it was like he'd hit a ledge and he had to make a decision; jump or to stay right where he was, dangling his feet over the side and enjoying the view, flirting with the idea of falling once more.

He had a choice, and falling in love was never supposed to be a choice.

With Logan, when he looked at Logan, he thought maybe it wasn't just about sex. Sure, that shower scene had been pretty much the sexiest thing Kendall had ever seen, ever, and he wouldn't have minded a repeat episode. But he thought there might be more to it. Maybe it was about the magic in just being with him; playing video games together, even when only one of them was actually good at it, or road tripping out to the desert to stare at the stars so Logan could tell him their names, or just lounging around the pool like bums, pretending they were kings on their own little island called Hollywood.

When he tried to imagine them together as more than just friends, that vision didn't change; they'd hold hands in Starbucks and geek out over the Syfy channel and Logan would still know the name of every single star in the sky, and when Kendall looked into his eyes, he felt himself sinking into that chocolate elixir of his irises and he couldn't stop. They were quicksand, they kept him falling with no end in sight.

Which hadn't been scary at all when Logan was straight, when he clung to Kendall like a baby lemur with no feelings at all other than perfectly platonic ones, even if Kendall's body was a traitor, revolting against him at Logan's merest touch. Only now, the fleeting glances and gentle touches were being reciprocated. It should have been the best thing in the world, but really it filled him with this abject, undiluted terror that made his breath hitch and his pulse turn thready and weak in his veins, and all he wanted was to find a large pile of snow and bury himself in it like a secret cave.

Except there was no snow in California, at least not outside of Big Bear, and Kendall wasn't the type of person who would be happy tucked away, caged in, hiding from his problems. He was an explorer, and he didn't turn down challenges, dragons or no.

He'd told Logan to forget their kiss, because he hadn't wanted their friendship to devolve, but if Logan was the one pursuing him- well, Kendall wasn't one for rejecting second chances, and he needed to. For a million things; the sake of their friendship, and for the way Jo was looking at him over the candlelight that very minute the least of them.

He so, so needed to, but fuck, Logan's fingers trailed over his thigh beneath the table and if he was going to be such a _cocktease_ maybe he'd deserve it if Kendall pinned him down on the checkered tablecloth and just- devoured him whole.

Then he thought of James and a rush of bitterness flooded his mouth like bile, and he realized it was more complicated than his own pride and hormones. What he'd said to Logan earlier that week still held true. He was a gambling man, but he wouldn't gamble with the little boy who'd body checked another goalie when he was six just because the kid had called Kendall a word they both had barely known the meaning to.

Even if Logan suddenly- wanted something from him, Kendall wasn't going to let it ruin everything.

He was perfectly fine being miserable instead.

\---  
  
After their date, Kendall walked Jo home without even a kiss. She was disappointed; he could see it in her eyes, but Kendall had already kissed too many people that week.

When he made it back to the apartment, Logan was nowhere in sight.

Kendall had an old guitar he'd inherited from his deadbeat dad, but he had no idea how to play it. That night though, he dug it of his closet, thinking it was time the guitar represented more than just sentimental value. He had so many thoughts in his head, about the concert, about being famous, about Hollywood, Jo, and all his friends. He wondered if everyone felt so confused all the time, or if this was one more thing unique to him, like his dimples, or the way he could pretend to be absolutely fearless.

Half an hour of figuring out chords and the door to 2J opened.

It wasn't Logan.

"What are you doing?"

"Real bands play instruments, James. I'm trying to learn an instrument."

"It sounds like you're learning to skin a cat."

"Thanks," Kendall set the guitar aside and crossed his arms, "It's good to know I'll always have the support of my friends."

James shrugged and plopped down beside him, staring determinedly at the TV. He looked like he was working up the courage to say something.

What he eventually said was not what Kendall was expecting.

"You wore _that_ on your date?" James's mouth thinned in disbelief, "You should have worn the pink one."

"I don't own a pink shirt, dude."

"Really? Because I thought I saw one in the laundry the other day-"

"It was Carlos's."

"-oh. You don't own any pink shirts?"

"No."

"Well that is a travesty. I'm going to have to take you shopping sometime soon-"

"James."

"-maybe somewhere on Rodeo Drive, although the shop girls there get awfully bitchy if they don't have little sisters who've read Tiger Beat-"

"James."

"-but bitchiness is really kind of the standard MO in this town. I mean Kelly even told me that I'm a little bitchy and-"

"James!"

"God, what? You don't have to yell."

"Did you really want to talk to me about my wardrobe?"

"No," the taller boy sighed.

"So- what, then?"

"Logan."

"Oh."

"Logan gets _everything_ ," James pouted, "Even back in grade school, when you guys first met. He took all your attention. He took all your time."

"James-"

"He still does."

"What?"

"C'mon, Kendall. I'm not stupid. You've always liked Logan best, and I've known it. I don't know what it is that fascinates you- the fact that he needs you around now that Katie and your mom don't, or the fact that he's smarter than you'll ever be. Smart as you wish you could be."

"Hey. I'm- smart."

"Right," James snorted derisively, "Not like Logan, and you know it."

Well, he couldn't really argue with that.

"And just, fyi? Logan's not the only one who needs you. I fucking need you. I've always fucking needed you, but I have too much dignity to be such a clingy little bastard."

"You- have dignity?" Kendall tried joking. It fell flat.

"You were there, Kendall. And then you weren't. I needed something to fill the gap," James said quietly.

Kendall felt like the biggest douchebag in the whole wide world.

James sighed again, and repeated, "I knew that you liked him."

"I know."

"And I knew- I guess, I knew that as soon as he found out, he'd like you back."

"He doesn't. I mean, he _didn't_."

'But maybe he does' went unsaid, because really, Kendall had no idea what Logan was feeling.

"He does," James confirmed, rolling his eyes at how thick Kendall could be, "You know Logan. He has to hypothesize and analyze and figure out every angle of everything before he goes after something. The only times he ever rushes in is…when you're involved."

"It doesn't even matter. I'm not going to hook up with him or anything. I wouldn't do that to you."

For a second, James's eyes were warm, and so full of love Kendall could barely even stand it.

"Yeah. You shouldn't, but you will. I want you to."

"What?"

"You're my best friend, dude. We've been best friends since before I even really knew what friendship was. I want you to be happy, and lately, you've been pathetically _unhappy_. I don't want to be the cause of that."

"James, c'mon-"

It felt like all his excuses we're being erased in a single blow. All day he'd been denying Logan because he didn't want to hurt James, because he didn't want to hurt their friendship. Now James was telling him to go for it, and what did that even mean?

"Stop being such a wuss."

"I'm not-"

"No, seriously. Kendall, you're so fucking brave when it comes to everything else, but when it comes to me, and Logan, and Carlos? You're a total pussy. You need to suck it up and just, throw down."

Kendall thought about it. Finally, quietly, he said, "I don't even know if Logan really- I mean, I think he does, but I'm not so sure-"

"Just because you can't see the air you breathe doesn't mean it's not there," James mumbled, hazel eyes bright, "At least, that's what I saw written on the wall in the lobby bathroom. I think it's the same with love."

"You're getting philosophical on me."

"Yeah, well. One more thing. Carlos."

"Carlos? Where _is_ Carlos?"

"Last I saw him he was hiding in the swirly slide," James commented, running his fingers through his hair and betraying how much inward turmoil the conversation was actually giving him.

"Oh," Kendall's eyes darted up toward all that yellow plastic and he wondered if Carlos was still there, if he'd heard their conversation, "Kay?"

"He likes Logan. That's why he messed up the show. I just- thought you should know."


	7. I'm Not Whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dude," Logan whispered, nudging Kendall with his elbow, "You're going to have to pay attention to me eventually."

Spying wasn't Kendall's forte. Being sneaky, being stealth; he kind of really sucked at it.Which was a problem. The days leading up to their second, all-important concert were quickly dwindling and the _last_ thing they needed was his terrible ninja skills creating anymore discord within the band.  
  
But he couldn't stop himself.  
  
Really, he couldn't.  
  
It was like that time back in Minnesota in sixth grade when he convinced his friends that 'observing' Sadie Miller's slumber party from the tree outside her window would be an _excellent_ idea. He knew it _wasn't_ excellent; he knew it would probably end in _bodily harm_. If they were caught, Mr. Miller owned a rifle. But Kendall persuaded them to go anyway, because he was twelve, and he wanted to know if girls really had the _absolute best_ pillow fights like every TV show he'd ever watched claimed, and he was only just starting to get interested in girls anyway.  
  
It hadn't turned out well. Logan had fallen out of the tree and one of the girls on the softball team had spotted them when he shrieked like a little kid as he plunged to the grass, and she'd proceeded to throw all manner of objects at them until an alarm clock inevitably hit James, who vengefully took the rest of them down with him. Then Mr. Miller had come on the front porch, rifle locked and loaded, and Kendall had never run so fast in his entire life.  
  
But as he explained to a hysterical Logan later that night, it hadn't been a total loss. They'd seen Sadie's panties.  
  
He knew it was the same thing now.  
  
Well, He probably wouldn't be seeing Carlos naked. At least, he fervently hoped not, because the kid was a total exhibitionist in the locker room and in this instance it was uncalled for.  
  
Kendall honestly didn't even really mean to be watching Carlos so carefully, but what James had said had really unnerved him. Because, what were the chances? That all four of them were so fucked up they couldn't even feign interest in a person outside their own close knit circle, a person who was ideal, who was soft and sweet and smelled like flowers, and not the tropical hibiscus shampoo James liked to use.  
  
A _female_ person.  
  
So he watched Carlos closely all through rehearsals, hoping James's whacked theory would be disproved, and he could go back to worrying about all of his other problems, like the concert and Gustavo and what exactly to do about Logan. And James. Even though what he'd said was self-sacrificing and martyr-ish and made Kendall feel like practically the biggest jerk on the face of the earth, or at least Hollywood, Kendall still couldn't shake the feeling that if he really were to take James's advice and risk openly pursuing Logan, it wouldn't be fair to him. James would be in pain, because of it, and Kendall didn't want to be the reason his best friend hurt.  
  
So yeah, Kendall really wanted to focus on his 9580457802874804820782750 issues that didn't involve Carlos Garcia, but Carlos Garcia didn't seem to want to cooperate. He kept messing up harmonies every time Kendall got within a few inches of Logan, which was impossible not to do in a room the size of a small closet, and at least five separate instances Kendall found the smaller boy throwing him dark, untrusting looks that were completely out of place on his normally bright face. But every time he tried to talk to Carlos alone during break, he was unceremoniously ignored, and whenever he tried to get his friend to smile while they practiced, Gustavo would cut in and tell him to stop fucking around.  
  
"Just give up, man," James hissed, at one point, "Otherwise Gustavo's _never_ going to let us leave."  
  
After enough hours of harmonies that Kendall felt like his throat had gone dryer than the Sahara, the four of them trooped home. It was an overcast day, but still so hot that he felt like his veins were sweating blood.  
  
Cramped in the back of the limo on the way to the Palmwoods, none of them said much. Kendall was squashed between Logan and James, and Carlos was slumped on Logan's opposite side, staring out the window at the landscape that went by so quickly it blurred.  
  
"Is something wrong, guys?" Kelly inquired mildly, obviously unable to discern that they were in the midst of a delicate situation, something as fragile and fluttery as a baby bird, "You're not worried about the concert, are you? You'll be fine!"  
  
James grunted something like an affirmation, Kendall shrugged, and Carlos didn't answer at all. Only Logan smiled sunnily and said, "Nah, it's not that. Don't worry, Kelly. We're all just- exhausted."  
  
Logan yawned and stretched to emphasize his point, his knee knocking into Kendall's in a way that made the blond flinch away.  
  
"If you say so," Kelly inclined her head thoughtfully, quick eyes darting over the band, trying to discover the chink in their armor that might make them tell her the truth. She came up wanting; even storm tossed and weathered, angry at each other and the world, they kept each other's secrets.  
  
The alternative was letting California tear them apart.  
  
"Dude," Logan whispered, nudging Kendall with his elbow, "You're going to have to pay attention to me _eventually_."  
  
"What are you, five? I am paying attention to you."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Logan tried to match their footsteps. The extra few inches Kendall had on him made for longer legs, longer strides, so he nearly managed to outpace his friend until- Camille slapped him. Hard.  
  
The lobby of the Palmwood was always littered with dangers, this being one of them. However, that had been a little overenthusiastic, even for her. Kendall blinked down at Camille, who was dressed in an elaborate Gone With The Wind style dress. Her gaze was stony, and when she smiled at him, it was forced.  
  
Which was weird, because they'd always gotten along okay, other than the whole slap-test dummy bit. Kendall backtracked his steps in his mind, tracing the route they'd taken from leaving the limo to passing through the lobby, Logan forcefully pressed in tight to his arm most of the way. He wondered if she'd been watching, but of course she had. She practically lived in the lobby. That small intimacy alone didn't seem like enough, but as she breezed away he demanded of Logan, "The other night, after your date, what happened?"  
  
"Oh, now you want to talk about this?" Logan snarked.  
  
Kendall frowned at the smaller boy, trying to impress on him that he was being serious.  
  
"Nothing much," Logan finally, nervously shrugged, "Why?"  
  
"I think she'd mad at me," Kendall commented, rubbing his cheek.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. She's only rehearsing. Besides," Logan leaned into his side with a grin, "You're the only guy at the   
Palmwoods who doesn't bitch like a little girl about the pain."  
  
"That was once," James objected, loudly. Carlos snorted but said nothing, eyes glued on Logan. This was bad. So, so bad.  
  
Kendall wasn't so sure about his friend's assessment. He caught the second glare Camille directed his way before she rounded the corner. Yeah. He glanced at Logan furtively, trying not to chance Carlos's ire too. Like he didn't have enough problems. Here was another to add to the list.  
  
At least now Kendall knew why she always slapped him and not Carlos or James. He was her only threat, and something Logan said must have made her see- everything that was going on now.  
  
He wondered, for a moment, as they made their way to the elevator, why Logan was doing this. Why he seemed to be choosing Kendall over Camille. Of all the girls in LA, she was like a princess in an Arthurian legend, noble and dignified and strong. She had substance and beauty, a rare combination in these parts.  
  
When the elevator dinged and they all stepped in, Logan maneuvered around James to stand next to Kendall. His closeness made Kendall's breath hitch and his jeans go uncomfortably tight, but even more so it made him aware of James, of Carlos, Camille, and everyone else.  
  
The only thing that was certain was that he was going to have to deal with this. Soon.  
  
When they made it back to their apartment, James said goodbye with a nonchalant wave. Logan glanced considering, between Kendall, Carlos's presence, and the hallway, where his nice, warm bed was waiting. When Kendall only glared at him and it became obvious Carlos wasn't planning on leaving, Logan retreated. His insistence on _talking_ was getting ridiculous. Until Kendall figured out who and what he wanted, they weren't going to get anywhere anyway.  
  
"I-" he looked haltingly at Carlos, "'m gonna watch TV."  
  
"Okay," Carlos said easily, sounding normal as could be. His eyes were dark and unreadable, and he didn't seem like he was planning on moving.  
  
"Uh, you going to stick around?"  
  
Carlos shrugged, still examining him, and then he asked, "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"  
  
"Um."  
  
"At all?"  
  
"No," Kendall admitted, because truer words had never been spoken.  
  
Carlos frowned disapprovingly, and then said so quietly it was almost a whisper, "I can't believe you, man."  
  
Kendall couldn't really believe himself either, so. He watched Carlos disappear down the hallway until all that was left of him was the glow of the living room lights reflecting off his eyes like some kind of feral cat. Then, nothing.  
  
For a while after that, Kendall was curled up on the couch watching TV. He didn't want to think and he didn't want to move.   
Then his mother padded into the room. At first, she took no notice of him as she puttered around in the kitchen, doing the dishes, putting away the leftovers. Right before she retreated she turned to him, eyes filled with concern.  
  
"Sweetie, I've been meaning to ask. Are you- okay? You've been looking…"  
  
Like crap. Kendall filled in. Like he was stuck in the wilderness with no map and no direction, and no way to escape.  
The couch cushions shifted a little as his mother sat beside him, pulling him in for a hug. Save me, Kendall wanted to say, burying his head in his mother's collarbone like he could crawl inside her and hide. His eyes pricked with tears he was too stubborn to let ever see the light of day, and there were too many words caught in his throat.  
  
"I'm fine, mom. Just- tired," he withdrew, finally, forcing himself to be strong like his mom, like his little sister- they were warrior women, always fierce and beautiful and unendingly filled with strength. He had too much dignity to cave in front of either of them, when they were so much more than him.  
  
Slinking into his room, he closed the door so gently it barely clicked. The darkness lay like a cloak on his shoulders and he mumbled, "I'm tired. I'm so, _so_ tired."  
\---  
One awkward week passed, followed by a handful of really awkward days. Logan had taken to following him around, trying desperately to pull him into a conversation about anything, everything. Except every time Kendall felt ready to talk he'd turn and find Carlos watching, or Camille, or James. Silent totems guarding the words he really wanted to say, the things he wanted to tell Logan with all his heart.Because really, it was becoming increasingly obvious that this was no longer about sex _at all_.   
He'd known for a while, but he hadn't wanted to admit that yes, Logan was gorgeous, too-good to be real. But, god, it was _everything_ about him. The way he sang like his voice was a gift from the gods and the way he understood complicated equations before anyone else even comprehended there was something to be solved, and the way he watched Kendall, steady and true. He was an unending beacon, the lighthouse of Alexandria, one of seven wonders in the world. Kendall wanted to fuck him, sure, but he wanted so much more. To hold him afterwards, listening to the steady rhythm of his breath and the honk-beep-rumble of LA traffic outside their window.  
  
To keep him, forever.  
  
Even if there was no way he ever could.  
  
Then something happened on a Monday night, four days away from their second concert. That was when Carlos threw a set of car keys in his face and said, "C'mon loser. We're going out."  
  
Confused, Kendall accepted the keys to the beat up junker Carlos's dad had gifted him for his birthday a few months ago, but neither of them were actually licensed to drive. Kendall had been getting some lessons from Logan on the side, but still, it wasn't _legal_. Which had never stopped him before, so fuck it.  
  
They drove out to the Crab Cooker for dinner, eating Manhattan clam chowder that burned their tongues and talking about the Wild's chances to actually win the Cup this year (not very good). Anything but the subject Kendall wanted to avoid at all costs but was certain Carlos had dragged him out here for. He didn't want it to come down to a fight, to them both being fierce and unable to share.  
  
After dinner, they headed to the pier, the splinters catching on Kendall's shoes as they walked out to the farthest point where the water and the sky were black, black, black. There wasn't a single star he could see, but the air felt a little clearer here somehow, away from Hollywood and the pressure and the nightmares that had plagued his sleep because of his own indecision. He didn't know how to handle being unsure; he was a leader, he was used to taking charge. But he didn't have any other options, not with such high stakes.  
  
Of course, it would have all been so much easier if Carlos wasn't such a dirty, dirty liar and had told him from the beginning Logan was off limits.  
  
It wasn't until a moment had passed that Kendall realized he's said it out loud. Carlos looked at him, eyes sad, and didn't say a thing in reply. Kendall wanted to grab hold of him, shake him, make him deny it. But he didn't. He wouldn't say anything at all.  
  
Everything stunk of fish, and eventually they got sick of staring out at nothing. The waves sounded soothing but were nearly invisible against the pearly sheen of sand below. A few couples wandered the beach, kissing so fervently they looked like two headed hydras. Sea monsters in earnest. It was almost enough to make Kendall smile. Almost.  
  
By silent, mutual agreement they trekked back out to the parking lot and sat on the hood of the car, feet denting the metal.   
Then, for the first time in half an hour, Carlos decided to talk. He cocked his head to the side and said, "You're an idiot."  
Only, that hadn't really been what Kendall had expected.  
  
"What?"  
  
Carlos tilted his head back 'til it was touching the windshield, "You might be the biggest idiot I've ever met, actually."  
  
"Dude-"  
  
"Your idiocy is _astounding_."  
  
"Carlos!"  
  
The smaller boy turned and met his gaze, "I don't _like_ Logan. Seriously, who even told you that?"  
  
If Kendall's voice broke, he wasn't going to point it out, "Uh- James?"  
  
"Oh. Oh!" Carlos's eyes lit up in understanding, "That wasn't- I take it back, _he's_ the biggest idiot I've ever met."  
  
Kendall snorted. It was, after all, James.  
  
"Of course I like Logan. Not like that," Carlos said quickly, "He's like a brother to me. He's the one who introduced me to you guys, and when I noticed you two getting…uh, let's just say close for my own peace of mind, I just- I got worried."  
  
"Worried?" Kendall inquired mildly.  
  
"You know Logan," Carlos laughed, free and clear, and for the first time in a long time Kendall could feel a laugh bubbling up in his chest as well, "He's stupid too. All of, we're morons. But…he's never really been in a relationship, and you know if this thing you two have going goes wrong, it's going to mess up-"  
  
"Everything," Kendall agreed.  
  
Carlos nodded, "No offense, man. But if it comes down to choosing between you and Logan, I'm going to choose him. Every time."  
  
"I get that."  
  
And he did.  
  
It just wasn't going to make the decision of What To Do any easier for him.


	8. You Can Find A Million Faults In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're right. I'm not spying. I'm looking for an opportune time to-" Kendall's words were cut off as James forcibly shoved him forward.

He was going to do this. He was going to confront Logan.It was Wednesday, and the fact that it had taken him two days- well, if he was being totally honest, an entire _month_ \- to gather up his courage and venture into a fucking conversation was ridiculous. This wasn't who Kendall _was_. He didn't run away from his problems, and he'd been running for so long he could practically feel the metaphorical ache all the way down to his calves.  
  
So really, he only loitered outside the Palmwoods lobby for say, half an hour? Just to really build up his courage, because it wasn't like- he wasn't hiding, okay? He. Was. Not.  
  
And he'd just about managed to convince himself of it when James walked by, laughing with one of the Jennifers. When he saw Kendall, his eyes shuttered for a moment, everything behind them blank. Then he said something polite to the Jennifer, or maybe something not so polite because now she was glaring at James's back like she might actually have the power to make him spontaneously combust. Either way, it didn't matter, because James was at his side, hissing, "Tell me you are _not_ doing this."  
  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"You're not spying on Logan. You're not," James insisted, trying to convince himself that Big Time Rush's fearless leader wasn't a complete and utter coward.  
  
"You're right. I'm not spying. I'm looking for an opportune time to-" Kendall's words were cut off as James forcibly shoved him forward. He stumbled over the entrance to the lobby poolside, until he was standing right in front of the lounge chair Logan was stretched out on. For a moment, Kendall allowed himself a glance back, at James, who looked- ruined. Like he was giving something up. And Kendall realized he was, and he had been trying to for a long time now, but Kendall hadn't let him. He'd been drawing it out, and that had been cruel.  
  
So he offered James a soft smile, tentative, and then he turned his back on whatever they might have had. When he looked down, Logan was staring up at him, confused but happy. Grinning. And yeah, Kendall thought, maybe this was going to be his future. Maybe this would be okay.  
  
Except it really wasn't okay at all, because Kendall had absolutely no idea what to say. Good thing Logan was never at a loss for words, "Hi."  
  
"Hey."  
  
"You look- lost," Logan said, gesturing around the pool like maybe Kendall had been trying to get to his room but had ended up here, and lost, god, was it really that obvious?  
  
"Kind of," he admitted, sitting on the edge of the lounge, "It's been a long month."  
  
Logan tilted his head, his smile still strong and replied, "Tell me about it."  
  
Kendall did. He told him everything. And when he was done, Logan's smile wasn't quite as steady, but there was something in his eyes, a look that Kendall had never quite seen before. And he said, "Kendall?"  
  
"Uh, yeah?"  
  
"You're stupid."  
  
"You're- not the first person who's said so."  
  
Logan grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him in so their eyes were level, "Does this mean you're not avoiding me anymore? Because that _sucked_."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You should be," Logan agreed, but his expression was still amiable, "If I try to kiss you, will you let me?"  
  
At first, Kendall couldn't get over the shock of Logan- Logan, who hated charging head first into situations because he usually got fucked over big time, Logan whose last girlfriend had dumped him because of his aversion to PDA- wanting to kiss him right there at the Palmwoods pool.  
  
"I-" he glanced around to see who was watching, but everyone seemed more intent on sunning themselves on lounge chairs or splashing their friends in the water than watching what felt like the biggest moment of Kendall's life, "-no. I won't stop you."  
  
Slowly, a smile spread over Logan's face, all mischief. He reached up and entwined his fingers around the collar of Kendall's shirt, pulling him down so that their eyes were level. And then they collided. At first it was hard, and their teeth clicked together and he was pretty sure his lip was bleeding, but then- it softened. Their mouths fitting, pushing, probing. Logan licked a line along the outside of Kendall's lower lip, nipping at the soft skin, sucking as their tongues began their first tentative forays into each other's.  
  
There was a lot of kissing after that. Not all of it at the Palmwoods pool, because Bitters immediately kicked them off the premises for being obscene at a family establishment. But still, Kendall's room was a perfectly good place to kiss. He had a comfy bed, and nice mood lighting, and with Logan's mouth burning on his, it was kind of the only place Kendall ever wanted to be.  
  
They stumbled onto it in a heap, neither wanting to release their hold, neither wanting to let go, ever.  
  
Kendall had barely managed to swing their legs up over his comforter when Logan's body thrust up to meet his, and he could feel the outline of his friend's dick through his trunks, the material thin and damp with need. One of Logan's hands was tugging lightly at Kendall's hair, tracing possessive lines across his scalp and his cheek and his shoulders while the other delved between them, finding evidence that Kendall was every bit as hard, raring to go, _wanting_ as he was.  
  
He inched Kendall's shorts down between the frantic, stuttering rhythm of their hips, managing through some feat of magic to lose his swim trunks in the process. And then they were pressed together, slicked with pre-cum, sliding against each other, and the friction was delicious. Logan took their erections in the smooth palm of his hand, hockey calluses faded from too much time in the recording studio and not enough time handling a stick, although he seemed to be handling Kendall just _fine._  
  
He twisted his wrist, his mouth fire against Kendall's, his hand too much and not enough all at the same time, and Kendall couldn't stop his hips from moving forward of their own volition, from trying to take moremoremore.  
  
When he spilled over the edge it was just a moment after Logan, after the dark haired boy's mouth had gaped open, exhaling a breath, a curse, _Kendall_. Then he was following, vision going white, brilliant silver lightning exploding on the back of his eyelids and beneath it all, the feeling of Logan still shuddering through the aftershocks, the wetness of his friend's cum mixing with his own, and the hard-soft sensation of Logan's hand guiding him through it.  
  
Afterwards, they lie spent in Kendall's bed, heads filled with nothing but the most peace than Kendall had felt since they'd left Minnesota.  
"I don't even," Logan sighed, and of course he'd be the one who felt chatty after what they'd just done, "That was-"  
  
"Ridiculously amazing," Kendall intoned.  
  
"That," Logan agreed, "But-"  
  
"But what? I swear to god," Kendall groaned, irrational panic flooding his insides, "If you've changed your mind about any of this I'm going commit homicide, and any jury in their right minds will totally let me off."  
  
Logan laughed, the sound familiar and it kind of made Kendall want to kiss him again, because he could. So he did.  
  
The dark eyed boy pulled back moments later, voice serious, "I owe you an explanation."  
  
"For what?" Kendall asked, loving the way Logan's lips were bruised red, running his fingers through his friend's hair and marveling at the texture; coarser, thicker than his own had ever been.  
  
"My reaction, after you- after that night at the beach."  
  
"You don't owe me anything at all, dude. I freaked you out. It's normal. And like, considering all this," he gestured at their state of undress, at the way Logan was nuzzled into his side, "I think it's fair to say you've more than made up for it."  
  
"Yeah, but that's the thing. Kendall, I wasn't freaked out."  
  
Kendall frowned, sitting up to try to catch a better glimpse of Logan's face, but instead his body cast the smaller boy's face further in shadows. They flickered when he shifted, and if Kendall squinted it looked like some sort of play panning out across his features. Like monsters and legends and fairytales coming to life on the canvas of his skin, only to disappear whenever Kendall blinked.  
  
"Then what?" he finally managed to ask, hypnotized by the chiaroscuro portrait Logan had become, right there, in his room, in the neon glow of Hollywood.  
  
"It's just that I'd- this is all new to you, isn't it?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Liking me? Liking guys? You didn't feel this way until we came out here."  
  
"That's pretty much the gist of it."  
  
A half-smile graced his friend's lips, flitting away almost as soon as Kendall caught sight of it, "I figured. But- it wasn't like that for me. Dude, I've been-"  
  
For a moment, Logan turned his face into Kendall's pillow, his eyes so far away he might have been seeing distant lands, places from storybooks, _Camelot_. All Kendall wanted to do was draw him back to the here and now, to make his friend snap back to the present. But he stayed quiet, let Logan prepare himself for whatever it was he wanted to say, "I've been- like this for as long as I can remember. I've always liked boys every bit as much as I liked girls. I've always liked- well, you."  
  
"Then why didn't you-"  
  
"Say anything? What would I have said? Hey, Kendall, c'mere for a minute. Yeah, you know that time when I dumped Jenny Tinkler freshman year? It was because I kept having to jack off to you in the showers after hockey, and I felt so guilty about it I couldn't look her in the eye on our dates."  
  
He knew his first reaction should have been something emphatically apologetic, but he couldn't help the way his breath hitched, or the fluttery feeling in his chest at hearing that Logan had ever felt that way, that Logan had ever thought of him that way. He'd made Logan lose control, and the idea of his friend standing in the showers after practice, his hand hot on himself and Kendall's name perched on his lips was pretty much the _hottest thing ever._ His cock twitched with half-hearted interest.  
  
Luckily, Logan didn't seem to notice. Instead he grabbed a bottle of water off Kendall's bedside table, stupid California water that Kendall had seen fit to blame for this whole debacle, but apparently had nothing at all to do with Logan, or why he felt the way he did.  
  
"I gave up- on you, I mean. I realized nothing was going to happen, and I thought- it would be better, to give up. So when you kissed me, it was like- honestly, I thought you'd found out somehow and were fucking with me. Then I saw how torn up about it you were-"  
  
"I was _not_ torn up about it."  
  
"Please, you're not exactly an expert at hiding how you feel, dude. And plus, it was you. You're not that mean. You'd never prey on my emotions like that. I had to go over all the implications and everything, all these realities I'd never considered back home because, well, how unrealistic could I be? But now…once I thought about it, once I seriously considered it- that's when I got that it was maybe okay, to start liking you again. Not that I'd ever _really_ stopped."  
  
Kendall thought about what it would have been like if he'd never come to California. If he'd never started seeing his friends as romantic interests instead of bros. If he'd found out Logan was into him. Would he have done something nasty and humiliating to his friend?  
No, because Logan was right. Kendall wasn't like that. He would have been fine with whatever it was that Logan wanted, even if he hadn't wanted the same things.  
  
"I'm- glad," Kendall said, his voice coming out gruffer than he meant it to, emotion caught in his throat, "That you- you know. Like me."  
"Well," Logan's smile was tiny at first, before bursting forth, turning wide and nearly splitting his face in two, "I'm glad that you, you know, like _me_."  
  
It wasn't quite a love confession, but Kendall figured they'd get there. Eventually.  
  
\---  
  
Sometime around four in the morning, when Logan was conked out in his bed dreaming of Martian landscapes and the day he invented the cure for the common cold and adrenaline was still buzzing through Kendall's body the way it did after a big game, he clambered up for water. He didn't expect anybody to be awake, much less James, who was seated in front of the TV watching infomercials for hairdryers.  
  
"You're up late," he said, trying to sound casual and coming off squeaky and out of sorts.  
  
"Couldn't sleep," James inclined his head to the side, a hint of teasing in his voice, "Thins walls."  
  
At first Kendall didn't get it. Then he did. Shit.  
  
"I- fuck, I'm sorry, man."  
  
"No, no. Sounded like you were having a good time," James's eyes never left the TV, the only indication that he was actually feeling as lighthearted as he sounded. It hurt, seeing him like that. Dejected, because of him. Kendall had never wanted James to feel so badly, not when the memory of the way their bodies had fit like puzzle pieces in the back of the taxi was still burned on his mind.  
  
If Logan hadn't been around, there was a chance- fuck it, not even a chance- he would definitely be head over heels for James. He would be, for sure, because he already was a little in love with James for being selfless and noble and so long suffering that he wanted to take up the remote and smack James on the head for being so perfect. It was just that he'd fallen harder for Logan, and now it was too damn late to turn back.  
  
Kendall sighed, filling a glass from the tap and then settling down on the couch next to his friend, "I'm really, really sorry."  
  
"Don't be," the taller boy's voice came out strained, gaze glued to an infomercial, "I'm the one who told you to go- follow your heart, or whatever."  
  
Unable to stop himself, Kendall blurted, "Why did you do that? You could have- I dunno. _Fought_ for me. To be with me."  
  
James's face was inscrutable, "Is that what you would have wanted?"  
  
"No," Kendall admitted quietly, because he couldn't imagine how much more complicated things would have been if James hadn't sat him down, told him to go for it. Told him all the shit he hadn't been seeing.  
  
"I- love you," his friend's voice cracked, "I always have, Kendall. But you're always going to be my best friend first, and because of that, I just want you to be happy. And I guess I know that being with Logan makes you happy."  
  
"I'm- sorry," he said again, feeling helpless.  
  
"Don't be," James snorted, "It's not the end of the world."  
  
He kind of looked like it was, but Kendall wasn't going to say anything.  
  
\---  
  
The night of their second concert, Kendall felt like his nerves crackled with energy and his limbs had turned to jelly. The venue was small, intimate; less a bar and more of a small lounge filled with young, business casual twenty somethings that probably couldn't care less about BTR. They sipped martini glasses full of fluorescent liquids that looked too bright to ever be found in nature, and their apathy as the boys ran through their sound check was more than evident. No one here wanted to see _them_.  
  
"Relax," Logan whispered, his breath ghosting over the back of Kendall's neck in a way that made him shiver, "You're wound way too tight."  
  
"Everything's going to be fine, boys," Kelly announced, her voice a little high pitched with fear.  
  
"And if it's not, you're all _fired_ ," Gustavo added, trying to look menacing, but failing when he added in a worried tone, "So go show them all why you _dogs_ are the next big thing."  
  
Kendall nearly laughed. He wondered what he'd done to get such great people in his life, who cared so much. Kelly was pretty as a mermaid, steadfast as a priestess, and Gustavo might have been the tamest ogre Kendall had ever met, even if he wouldn't want to meet him under a dark bridge at night.  
  
"You're up," the producer announced, crossing his arms and glaring, " _Don't_ mess it up."  
  
Like a troll demanding a toll, Gustavo only wanted more from them, but it was for their own good. And Kendall understood anyway. He was the same. Even living life like this, in this world of dragons and beasts and an adventure a day, he still wanted more.  
  
Living was like that- but as far as lives go, Kendall was pretty certain his was damn good.  
  
His mother was a warrior goddess, his sister was a trickster con artist. He'd almost fallen for a nymph, he'd almost been destroyed by all manner of monsters. But through it all he'd had James and Carlos and Logan, muses of adorations and loyalty and love, and sometimes when they smiled at him he felt like he could slay dragons with nothing but a hockey stick and a microphone.  
  
He could do this. He was going to _own_ this.  
  
They stepped on stage, and within minutes, they'd captured the crowd's attention. Girls in fluttery skirts and guys in dark ties watched them, gleaming eyes in a sea of faces. Kendall didn't blame them.  
  
The lights were bright in his eyes; miniature suns, a whole heavenly body revolving around his head, stars and planets and meteor debris. Except stars were cold and distant and the lights were like heat lamps, too close, making his skin sweat-salty. The crowd rippled and moved like the currents of the sea, like their voices pulled at them like the moon controlled the tide; made waves and floods and hurricanes. Step forward, move back, flip over, and slide. The carefully choreographed moves weren't second nature, not quite yet, but being there, with his friends was. The way he fit against James's body when they sang back to back, his boy-man best friend with the lungs of a siren and the eyes of a young god and a heart of fire and passion and something steelier than Kendall had ever understood before. And how Carlos competed with him, subtle, fierce, a falcon parading as a songbird, gentle smiles and the most intense gaze, their funny man, their secret knight in shining armor. And Logan, this boy who was like a half-remembered dream come to life, who had watched him and wanted him even when Kendall's biggest concert was flunking trig. He exhaled words and numbers and the complexities of life like magic spells, and he shone so damn bright.  
  
Of course the audience was hypnotized. Who wouldn't be?  
  
Kendall had read once, somewhere- in some music magazine he'd pretended not to care about but filched from James in the dead of night for research purposes- that when a person is in the presence of their favorite pop idol they can experience a state of ecstasy. The same kind of ecstasy saints searched for in the dark ages; the feeling of being close to god. For some of those people out there in the darkness of the club, Kendall was metamorphosed into a god.  
  
Maybe not the divine kind, the kind who had books written and wars fought in their name. Maybe the kind from ancient myths, the kind with horns and eyes like the vast never-ending sky, the kind more likely to revel and prance around with a lyre or a hunter's horn than a book of psalms demanding hosanna-in-the-highests. He was like Bacchus, Ceridwenn, Loki. Mischief and dancing and spinning so fast the stars seemed to twirl in the heavens just for him. His voice blanketed the club, searching out the dark shadows and settling there, rich and undeniable. He ran through the lyrics like he wanted to project his voice until it floated through everyone in the whole wide world, listening, breathing in time to the reverberations of his lungs.  
  
It was like he was weaving enchantments with his song and it grew larger every second, making their audience go hazy-eyed, captivated. There were no missteps this time; they were in harmony, synchronized, hearts beating in unison. The crowd was thronged through with their maenads, wild, ecstatic, drinking them up.  
  
Hockey had never felt quite like this.  
  
And then it was over. For a split second, Kendall felt empty, bereft. Drained.  
  
Until Carlos whooped and James grinned and Logan beamed so brightly he outshone the lights. Backstage they were panting, laughing, smiling so damn hard he felt like their mouths might break. Logan was pressed up to his side, so happy that it seemed impossible. Kendall turned around and kissed him, right there in front of Carlos and James, Gustavo and Kelly, as hard and as passionately as he could manage in the thirty seconds their lips maintained contact. If anyone had asked, he would have sworn he couldn't have done anything else.  
  
"You're not shocked by all this?" Carlos was asking their producer and his assistant when Kendall and Logan broke it off.  
  
"By what?" Gustavo asked, completely unfazed, "Dogs, slobbering all over each other?"  
  
"You're in a _boy band_ ," Kelly stressed, "People _expect_ this. Anyway, we just wanted to say congratulations."  
  
"You nailed it," Gustavo agreed reluctantly, "Which just means you're going to have to practice harder tomorrow so you can _keep_ nailing it."  
The boys cheered and threw their hands around the two, not thinking about harmonies or tomorrow, or anything other than the buzz they were feeling, right that minute.  
  
Later, after Kelly and Gustavo had gone to find their VIP guests, James and Carlos zoomed in on Logan and Kendall, slumped together, slick with sweat.  
  
"It's about goddamned time," James announced, and if there was a hint of sadness in his eyes Kendall decided not to mention it, because this was James, the strongest kid he'd ever known. One day soon, Kendall would find him the person he deserved; he would make James's happy ending even if he had to build it by hand, all by himself.  
  
"Yeah, for sure. Who'd have thought I'd be the only straight one here?" Carlos remarked idly, a grin making his incisors gleam.  
  
"You? Straight?" James gave an offended gasp, "No fucking way. You are _not_."  
  
"I like the ladies," Carlos offered, mischief written in the lines in the corner of his eyes.  
  
"You aren't straight," James said firmly, mockingly.  
  
"Um, I really, really am."  
  
"I'm going to fix that," James resolved, lunging for Carlos, who leapt out of the way, nearly crashing back through the curtains. They began a teasing game of cat and mouse that involved knocking over nearly half the sound equipment behind the stage.  
  
At one point, Kendall caught James's gaze flickering toward him, filled with some odd mixture of pain and love, but the second he blinked, it was gone. James was laughing, trying to tackle Carlos out the back door.  
  
"Should we be worried for Carlos's virtue?" Logan hissed, looking up at Kendall with eyes so bright and adoring it was absolutely ludicrous that Kendall had never noticed it before.  
  
"Nah. He'll be fine."  
  
Everyone had their own dragons to fight, after all.


End file.
